Rosalind
by Earthling
Summary: A daughter, a wife, a whole new life for John Clark! Finally Finished!
1. Default Chapter

This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: I will warn you now that there is very little story to this. It's basically just an idea I thought I'd spin during the off season. Each chapter is really just more like an impression of a dream than of a real story. Another apology, a name this time. I couldn't catch it, and couldn't find it, so Dr. Devlin's first name is now Allison. If anyone can correct me, please feel free. I'll keep you updated as we move along. Hope you enjoy!  
  
Clark pushed past the "gate" and took a seat at his desk. Sipowitz looked up at him.  
"Hey" he said.  
"Hey" Clark responded. The squad was in low moods today. The Lieutenant had been in the hospital for two days now, his stats fluctuating from one extreme to the other. They had all been given yesterday off to try to cope, but they had work to do.  
"Hey, call just came in. DOA down at Park's" Connie said, pulling her coat on, "Rita and I are heading down"  
"We're right behind you" Andy told her. Clark watched them, Connie tried to smile, Andy just nodded at her, telling her with that small gesture that he understood what she was going through. They'd only recently won custody of Connie's niece, Michelle, no thanks to the infant's paternal grandparents. And they'd had to cancel their wedding, which was to be held the night the Lieutenant was shot. Still, through all of that, they'd been there for each other. John supposed he was just a little envious. Okay, well, maybe a lot. Somewhere in him, where he couldn't recognize it conciously, he wished dearly for that kind of relationship. Any kind of substantial relationship that wasn't full of bitterness and restraint. The feeling brought the unbidden thought of his father to mind, and he sighed as he pushed it away and followed Andy out to the car.  
The DOA didn't look dead. At least until you got a good look at her neck. She had long red hair that was hanging down to her elbows, light ivory skin covered in freckles. John would bet her eyes were green and her ancestors had grown potatoes on an a cold, green island in the Atlantic. She was sitting in a booth, facing away from the rest of the diner, propped up just like she had maybe fallen asleep or something.  
"Who found her?" Andy asked Rita as they took a look.  
"Waitress," Rita answered, nodding backwards at a teenage girl who was speaking with Connie, wiping tears away from her eyes. Poor kid. John hated it when it was kids to find the latest senseless act in the 15th prisinct.  
"Looks like she's got a pretty bad rash on her throat. Any idea what that is?" John asked. Rita shook her head. Connie had told him she'd put in for a transfer the night the Lieu was shot. He knew it was because of the tension between them, especially after the whole thing with Allison dropping him off the other day. He should've thought about it a little more. No woman was going to move on in a month. That thought made him take a quick breath and store a new question about himself into the back of his mind for one of those rainy nights when the fridge was full of beer and there was nothing but the news to watch on TV.  
"Nope." Rita answered and Connie came over and joined them.  
"The waitress's name is Angie Perril. She's been working here for almost a year. She says the victim comes in every other day for breakfast before she goes to classes. Angie doesn't know where she goes to school, but she knows she's an art student." She informed them.  
"She know a name?" Rita asked.  
"Mehgan, but she doesn't know a last name. She said she had an Irish accent, pretty thick"  
"Anyone come in with her this morning?" Andy asked.  
"Park's is open twenty-four seven. She was here when Angie came in, sitting with a young man, looked about the same age, Irish. I got a description."  
"Anyone else see her?" John inquired.  
"All the night waitresses are off already, but I got names and numbers" Connie told him.  
"Right" Andy took a step away from the dead girl, "Why don't you and Ortiz go back to the office, see if you can find out who she was with. Clark and I'll do the canvas"  
"All right" Connie answered and she and Rita took off.  
  
Later  
  
Connie looked up as Andy and John walked in, put their walkie talkies up.  
"Did you get anything?" she asked.  
"Nothing" Andy answered, "You?"  
"One of the night waitresses, Meriland Arbogast, said she saw the couple come in together, arguing. She said the girl's name is Mehgan Kennedy and the guy's name is Patrick Flarhety, both Irish immigrants. She said she heard them arguing, but she's older and doesn't have the best hearing. Doesn't know exactly what they were arguing about" Connie answered.  
"There isn't anything on either of them, at least not in the States" Rita added, "But I did a little extra nosing around. They're both wanted in Ireland on various accounts, mostly terrorism."  
"Terrorism?" John repeated, more than a little surprised.  
"There's a war going on between Northern Ireland and Ireland, mostly between Protestants and Catholics." she explained.  
"Possible motive? They brought the war from the homeland to new land?" Andy suggested. Rita nodded.  
"It's possible."  
"Flaherty lives with a roommate, Bill Connely, American. Kennedy too, same building in fact, with a girl named Lisa Massamino." Connie told them.  
  
"We'll take both of 'em" Andy said, and they headed out again. The buidling was an old brick apartment building, ivy growing up the sides, in a fairly nice part of town, actually. They decided to talk to Connely first, figuring Massamino wouldn't know about her friend's death and they might have to deal with some emotional outbursts from her. Andy banged on the door to Connely's apartment.  
"Who is it?" a man's voice asked from behind it.  
"Detectives Clark and Sipowitz, open up!" John yelled back. The door cracked and a pale face appeared in the open space.  
"What do you want?" he asked.  
"We wanna talk, can we come in?" John replied.  
"Why?" Connely asked.  
"Just open the door, alright?" Andy said forcefully. The door shut and they heard a chain lock being removed before the door swung back open all the way this time. Connely was about Andy's height, skinny and pale with jet black hair that looked like he'd cut it with a razor and without a mirror.  
"Whats wrong?" he asked as he shut the door behind the two detectives.  
"We're trying to find your friend, Patrick, you seen him lately?" John asked as he perused the apartment. Seemed like a normal bachelor pad, empty pizza boxes on the coffee table, surrounded by a bunch of soda cans, soccer game on the tv.  
"Patrick? No, no I haven't seen him since last night man" Connely replied nervously, "He left....he left last night about nine"  
"You sure about that?" Andy asked.  
"Yeah, yeah."  
"Well, you won't mind if we take a look around for ourselves would you?" Andy wasn't really asking as he strode into the back room on the left.  
"Patrick say where he was going last night?" John asked. Connely gave him a nervous shake of his head.  
"Nah, no, just said he was goin" he answered.  
"He didn't maybe say he was going to see Mehgan?" John prodded.  
"Mehgan? That girl from upstairs? No, no Patrick, he don't like her. No, no he don't like her at all" Connely answered distractedly. Andy returned from his search, shaking his head. He hadn't found Flarhety. John pulled a card out and handed it to Connely.  
"You hear from him, you give us a call, alright?" he told the man.  
"He's in trouble again, isn't he?" Connely looked down at the card like he didn't exactly understand what he was holding.  
"Maybe. Just give us a call if you talk to him, or if you see him" John repeated a little more kindly. He got the feeling all the lights weren't on in Connely's head.  
"What do you think?" Andy asked as they reached the next floor.  
"No idea" John answered, knocking on number 36, Massamino and Kennedy's door. A young Italian girl opened the door.  
"Can I help you?" she asked without the slightest hint of an accent.  
"Detectives Clark and Sipowitz, can we ask you some questions?" Andy asked politely.  
"Sure, yes, of course" Massamino answered and stepped back to let them past. This apartment was much different from the one they had just left. Pastel curtains hung around the windows, a spotless white couch faced an entertainment system with all of the glass cupboards closed. There were nick naks sitting on shelves and large canvases hanging on the walls, mostly landscapes of what was probably Ireland as well as several styles of Crusifixes and Celtic Crosses. . Everything was neat and orderly and John thought he could smell lilac. Massamino herself was dressed in a bohemian style white skirt and a short tank top with her long thick black hair pulled back in a single braid.  
"Have you heard from your friend, Mehgan recently?" Andy started.  
"Mehgan, no, not since last night, about midnight. She works the night shift at the Seven Eleven" Massamino answered worridly, "Is she hurt? Is she mixed up in something? I know she did some bad things back in Ireland, but she doesn't do that kind of stuff anymore. That's why she moved here, to start new, do something better with her life, you know?"  
"She was found dead, at Park's Diner, this morning" John told her gently. Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes got huge.  
"No!" she cried, "No! Not Mehgan! She was killed?"  
"It looks that way" Andy replied, "Do you know anyone who might want her dead?"  
"Anyone from Northern Ireland" Massamino answered, apparently pushing tears back, " I know some of them live around here. She fought them in Ireland."  
"Maybe Patrick Flarhety?" John suggested. Despite her best efforts tears fell down her cheeks.  
"Yes, he's one. I can't believe Mehgan's dead! She can't be! She was still painting the lavander field!" The girl had gone into shock.  
"All right, come on. We'll take you to talk someone" John took her by the elbow and led her out to the car. After they'd dropped her off, they went back to the prisinct.  
"Andy, we just got a call from a cell phone" Connie told him as they walked in, "A man, said quote, 'Flarhety has exacted revenge on Kennedy once again'"  
"What the hell does that mean?" John said, sitting at his desk, wishing he could just go home and forget everything, the Lieutenant, Rita, his dad, Allison, Kennedy......just everything.  
" No idea" she replied. 


	2. Rosalind Who?

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: I will warn you now that there is very little story to this. It's basically just an idea I thought I'd spin during the off season. Each chapter is really just more like an impression of a dream than of a real story. Another apology, a name this time. I couldn't catch it, and couldn't find it, so Dr. Devlin's first name is now Allison. If anyone can correct me, please feel free. I'll keep you updated as we move along. Hope you enjoy!  
  
John felt like he was just sitting around, waiting for something to come their way. He'd been sitting at his desk, starting the paperwork, for maybe ten minutes.  
"Hey, the workup on Kennedy just came in. She died of a violent allergic reaction" Rita told them, hanging up her phone.  
"An allergic reaction, to what?" Andy asked.  
"Onion" Rita answered.  
"Onion? That's wierd" Connie said.  
"So does that mean it wasn't a homicide?" John voiced the question they were all asking themselves.  
"Not necesarily" Andy replied, "Remember that phone call. And someone who knew about the allergy could've used that knowledge, laced her food or drink with onion powder or something"  
"Hey" Jones's deep voice greeted them as he walked in, Metaboy behind him.  
"Where've you two been?" Andy asked.  
"We were down at the hospital, talkin to the doc's about the Lieutenant" Metaboy answered.  
"How is he?" Connie asked, concern linging her face.  
"He's doin okay. They got his lung workin' again, but they said they weren't too sure about how long they could keep him breathin on his own" he answered, wishing he had better news to impart.  
"What about this allergy thing?" Andy switched his attention back to the case, "You think Flarhety might've known about it?"  
"Only one way to find out" John answered. He found himself back at Connely's door again not long after.  
"You're back. Patrick hasn't come here. He hasn't come here, no" the timid young man told them.  
"We just want to ask you another couple questions" John said, "You said Patrick didn't like Mehgan. Do you know why?"  
"His brother. Patrick said her brother had killed his brother because his brother had killed her father. He said.....he said Mehgan killed his other brother but I don't know about any of that. Mehgan......I don't think Mehgan could kill anyone" Connely looked at the floor while he spoke.  
"We've got a clan war on our hands" Andy whispered.  
"Bill, hey, Bill" Connely looked up at John, "How well did Patrick know Mehgan?"  
"Patrick know Mehgan? Oh, he hated Mehgan. Yes, yes he hated her" John rolled his eyes.  
"We're not going to get anything from him" he said to Andy.  
"Massamino?"  
"Yeah. Hey, hey Bill. You still got that card I gave you?" Connely pulled the card out.  
"You remember to call us if you hear from Patrick, all right?" Connely nodded vigorously. Clark and Sipowitz headed to the clinic they'd left the dead girl's friend at. The adminstrator led them to her.  
"Detectives!" she said when she saw them, "Did you find something out?"  
"Yeah. Uh, Mehgan was killed by an allergic reaction to onions" Andy told her.  
"Onions? Yes, she was deathly allergic to them. Her whole family was" Massamino said, starting to tear up again, "We couldn't even have any in the house"  
"Listen, I'm sorry to put you through more of this, but we've got some more questions" John said, "We talked to Patrick Flarhety's room mate, and he said something about a history between the two. Something about one of Patrick's brother's killing her father and then her brother killing his brother and so on"  
"Yes. They fought in the war in Ireland. The Flarhety's, they're Protestants from Northern Ireland, Mehgan's family were Catholic. One of the Flarhety's, Liam, killed Mehgan's father because he was a high member of some terrorist organization, or something. Then Mehgan's brother Kyle killed Liam for revenge, but Michael Flarhety just killed Kyle, and then William, Mehgan's other brother, killed Michael, and Patrick's been after Mehgan ever since. Mehgan moved here to get away from him. We didn't know he was living downstairs until just the other day!" She burst into tears again.  
"So, there's a good chance Flarhety knew about Mehgan's allergy to onions, if her whole family was allergic" Andy said. All Massamino could do was nodded as she blew her nose into a klenex.  
"All right, thanks. We'll let you know when we get it all figured out" John told her and they headed out again. They left and went back to the prisinct.  
"What did you find out?" Rita asked when they walked in.  
"There's a pretty deep family feud. There's a real good chance Flarhety knew all about Kennedy's allergy to onion" Andy replied.  
"And he's after her for revenge. Her brother killed his brother, who killed her brother, who killed his brother, cause he killed her father. Did I get it right?"  
"Sounds about it" Andy said.  
"Sounds ridiculous" Jones commented.  
"Excuse me?" They all turned. An elderly woman, late seventies or early eighties, was standing just outside the gate. She was frail looking and spoke with a shaky voice.  
"Can I help you ma'am?" Connie asked, getting up.  
"Yes, Miss, I'm looking for Tony Rodriguez. I was told he worked here" She looked around the room hopefully. Connie looked down, seeming a little choked up. Andy got up.  
"I'm sorry ma'am. Lieutenant Rodriguez isn't here" he told her.  
"Can you please tell me where he is? It is very important that I see him right now" she said.  
"Why's that ma'am?" John asked.  
"I have to give him his daughter" she replied, and it was only then that the squad noticed the little girl hiding behind the woman's skirts. She was about five, and she had thin dark brown, almost black hair that was pulled up into pigtails. She wore a little blue jumper over a green shirt and hugged a rag doll in one arm. She was definately hispanic, but beyond that there was no definate evidance that she was even related to the Lieutenant.  
"The Leiutenant doesn't have any children" Andy said, taking the lead. He let the woman past the gate though, and she pulled the little girl with her. She looked up at John with big, terrified, eyes. He hunkered down so he was almost at eye level with her.  
"Hello" he said gently, "Why don't you come with me? Do you want a soda?" The little girl looked up at the old woman who nodded at her.  
"She doesn't speak much" the woman said, but she pushed the girl towards John and he led her to the back room and set her up with a soda at the table while the rest of the squad talked to the elderly lady outside.  
"Why don't you start with your name" Andy instructed her, "And why you think that little girl is Lieutenant Rodriguez's daughter"  
"My name is Mildred Collins. Her name is Rosalind Rodriquez. Her mother's name was Rose Velaquez, she was my next door neighbor in California. I watched Rosalind every week day for two hours, when her day time babysitter can't watch her, but Rose wasn't off work yet. About a month ago, Rose found out she had advanced breast cancer. She asked me to watch Rosalind if anything happened to her. The poor woman. She always worked so hard to take care of her little girl, but it never seemed to be enough. She died two weeks ago." Mrs. Collins took a hankerchief out and wiped at her eyes.  
"You came here all the way from California?" Connie asked.  
"Oh yes. Well, you know, I would keep Rosalind, but I just don't have the energy anymore, or the money, I'm afraid. I thought the girl would be much better off with her father" she answered.  
"And why do you think that's the Lieutenant?" Andy asked.  
"Why because that's who Rose told me the father was! She was my neighbor for six years, ever since before Rosalind was born you know. She told me that some years ago she and Mr. Rodriguez had had a relationship, you know, but that it had been a short thing, the sort young people today seem to have often enough. Still, Rose was not one of those loose women, I know that. Why she never even saw a man after Rosalind was born. Well, I suppose a child would frighten most men off, but Rose was such a sweet, lovely young lady!"  
"Ma'am" Andy stopped her before she could go off on some sort of tangent, "Is there any other proof you have other than what the girl's mother told you?"  
"Well, his name is right there on her birth certificate" she told him, reaching into her bag and pulling out that document, handing it to Andy. He passed it to Connie. There was "Tony Rodriguez" printed plain as day in the line that said "father".  
"I have legal custody, of course, Rose put it in her will, poor girl. And really I do just love Rosalind, I do, but I'm just not the person to take care of her. But the people I talked to said I could take her to her father" Mrs. Collins looked from one to the other of them.  
"So you see, I really must speak to Mr. Rodriguez"  
"I'm afraid that won't be possible" Andy told her, "He was shot two days ago. He's in the hospital in critical condition"  
"Oh, dear." Mrs. Collins said, "Oh, dear indeed. I had hoped to see him right away. You know my flight back home leaves in two hours, and I simply must take it. I haven't the money to get another ticket." They all heard a little girl's laughter from inside the room. John joined them in the hall. He'd been listening to their conversation while talking to the little girl. They all felt like they needed to help the poor thing, given the evidence that she really was the Lieutenant's daughter. They all felt like they owed something to him, especially now. But none of them knew quite what to do.  
"Why young man! You've made her laugh! Why, in all the time I've babysat her, I've never heard her laugh so!" Mrs. Collins exclaimed. John looked at her.  
"She's a cute kid. I think she likes me" he told her.  
"Look, Mrs. Collins, can you give us a moment?" Andy said and they all moved away.  
"What do you guys think?" he asked.  
"Well, it's obvious that Mrs. Collins wants to leave her with one of us" Rita said, "And I'd love to take her but.....I'm not the mothering type" She looked at Connie, who exchanged a look with Andy.  
"I'd love to take her, really, but we just don't have the room" she said and Andy nodded his agreement.  
"Well, I do" John said. Everybody looked at him.  
"Really?" Rita said sarcastically. She'd been in John's apartment. There was barely room to walk. Where was he going to put a little girl?  
"Sure. My couch folds out, and she seems to like me" The rest of the squad exchanged looks, not sure John Clark was the best man to take a five year old girl, even for just a couple weeks or so until Lt. Rodriguez got out of the hospital. But no one else was really qualified either, it seemed, so no one objected. They turned around to let Mrs. Collins know, but she was gone.  
"What the hell?" Andy said looking around for the old woman, but she was gone. They all crowded into the room where Rosalind still sat at the table with her soda. She looked at them with a frightened look on her face and then suddenly got out of her chair and went to stand behind John's legs. There was a legal looking paper sitting on the table.  
"It's a custody paper" Jones announced in a surprised voice after looking it over, "And it's got your name on it Clark"  
"What?" John took the paper from Jones and looked it over. He was listed as the legal custodian of Rosalind Isabella Rodriquez until such a time that her father, Tony Rodriguez, could take custody, or if that was not possible, Clark was to keep her permenantely. He looked down at the little girl, who was looking up at him like he was her savior, or, even scarier, her father.  
"Well, John," Andy said, clapping him on his back, "Looks like you got her" 


	3. Is it legal?

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: I will warn you now that there is very little story to this. It's basically just an idea I thought I'd spin during the off season. Each chapter is really just more like an impression of a dream than of a real story. Another apology, a name this time. I Couldn't catch it, and couldn't find it, so Dr. Devlin's first name is now Allison. If anyone can correct me, please feel free. I'll keep you updated as we move along. Hope you enjoy!  
  
"This is weird" John said, folding the paper up and putting it in the inside pocket of his coat.  
"I'll get Haywood, make sure it's all legal" Jones said and took off to find the DA. The little girl was still standing behind John's legs, looking out like a monkey in a cage. John turned around and picked her up. She was very light for being five years old.  
"I'm going to take care of you for a little while, okay, Rosalind?" he told her. She looked around and then curled both of her arms around his neck. She nodded and her pig tails tickled his neck. He could feel little hot spots on his shoulder and figured she was crying, though he couldn't tell any other way. He rubbed a hand up and down her back, suddenly feeling very paternal.  
"It's okay Rosalind, everything's going to be okay" he told her gently, hoping that would help her feel better. He really didn't know what else to say. He wasn't exactly the fathering type, and it wasn't like he'd had a great teacher at the practice of being one. Still, he would do the best he could, he would just have to do things logically. Bed time, nightly baths, school, breakfast, lunch and dinner...........shit, what had he gotten himself into? He had no idea how long he would have her, and in fact he might have her permenantly! Permenantly, he would have to get a new apartment. Of course, if it came down to that, he could put her up for adoption.....but when he looked back down at her tear streaked face when he sat her back down in the chair, he knew he could never do that. She had a little suitcase with her and a backpack too.  
"Listen, you're going to have to stay in this room for a little while, okay? I can get you something to draw with, do you want to draw?" he asked.  
"I have coloring books" she told him quietly. That was the most sound she'd made, other than the laugh, since she got there.  
"Where, in your backpack?" he asked. She nodded solemnly. He wondered what had happened in her life that she was so serious and quiet. Still, it would be a blessing for today. He set her up with crayons and her coloring book and went back out to the main office, where everyone else was kind of milling around.  
"What am I going to do with her all day?" he asked no one in particular.  
"She'll just have to stay here. We've got work to do" Andy replied.  
"But I can't just leave her alone" John objected.  
"I'll be here detective" Irvin said, "I'll keep an eye on her"  
"I'll call my babysitter" Connie offered, "Maybe she can take her for at least the rest of the week, until you find someone else or something"  
"Yeah, yeah, that'd be great, thanks Connie"  
"And she's about Theo's age, maybe she can get into his school with him" Andy suggested.  
"Yeah, that'd be good. I appreciate it you guys" John said, just as a uniformed officer came in with a small cardboard box in his hands.  
"Hey, I'm looking for Detective Clark" he said.  
"Yeah, that's me" John said, taking the box from him.  
"Some old lady left it downstairs for you. We checked it, it's just full of little kid stuff" the officer told him.  
"Yeah, that's mine. Thanks" John told him and went to put the box in the back room with Rosalind.  
  
Later  
  
"Hey, we just got another one of those anonymous calls" Metaboy announced, hanging up his phone, "Says she knows something about the Kennedy murder, and she'll meet someone at Park's."  
"We got it" Andy said, pulling his coat on.  
"You'll watch her?" John asked Irvin as they went out the door, nodding at the Lieutenant's office where Rosalind was napping. Irvin nodded at him.  
Park's was busy and Clark and Sipowitz had no idea who they were looking for.  
"The girl you're looking for is just back there" a waitress told them, pointing to a quiet booth on the other side of the diner from where they'd found Kennedy just this morning. That booth was still blocked off, though the body had been removed. Clark and Sipowitz made their way over and slipped into the booth. The girl was a dead ringer for the DOA. Red hair, ivory, freckled skin, the green eyes John had expected.  
"You the one that called about Mehgan Kennedy?" Andy asked.  
"Yes" the girl said quietly, heavy Irish accent. John wondered where all of these Irish immigrants had come from all the sudden.  
"Me name's Peg Callahan. I remember the wars between the Flarhety's and the Kennedys in Ireland. Those two family's have been fighting ever since Northern Ireland split off." She told them, glancing around to see if anyone was listening or watching, "Now me, I'm Protestant I am, but that don' mean I agree with all this killin'. So I called ye, to tell ye. At church on last Sunday, I 'eard Patrick Flarhety talkin' about Mehgan Kennedy. Tellin' one o' his friends about how her whole family were deathly allergic to onion and how he knew how he was gonna get her now."  
"Will you testify to that?" John asked. They'd finnally gotten some conclusive evidence! The girl considered for a moment, nervous about the idea obviously.  
"Aye, I will. You understand, Declan Kennedy, he'll be after Patrick now. Now, that Mehgan's dead. The whole Flarhety family will be dead if Patrick dies. And the Connely's they'll be after me if Patrick goes to jail and they know I'm the one what put him there"  
"Connely? As in Bill Connely?" Andy asked.  
"Aye, Bill be his cousin. Poor, slow witted thing. Declan, he's Mehgan's younger brother, and he be the last in that line. If he were to die, the whole war would shift and be between the Connely's and the O'Hara's, the Kennedy's cousins." Callahan told them, "The whole idea is ridiculous, aye, but that's how things go there. You get a couple familys of hot heads and death be tollin' on everybody's door"  
"All right. Why don't you come into the station with us, you can write this all down as a formal testimony" Andy suggested, getting up. Callahan looked around, not sure if she should comply.  
"Come one, no one's going to hurt you with us" John urged her. She nodded and followed them out to the car.  
"McDowell, this is Peg Callahan, she's got a testimony about the Kennedy case" Andy called and Connie came and collected the girl.  
"McDowell? Are ye Irish?" she asked.  
"My family is" Connie answered, taking her into the room Rosalind had previously occupied. John poked his head in the Liuetenant's office.  
" Irvin, where's Rosalind?" he asked.  
"Oh, she went to the restroom" Irvin answered.  
"We heard anything from Bill Connely?" Andy asked him.  
"Nope, sorry" Haywood walked in just then.  
"Hey, Clark, I heard you had a little problem" she said.  
"Ah, not really a problem" John said pulling the legal papers out of his pocket and handing them over, "I just want to make sure this is legal" Haywood glanced over the paper.  
"Rodriguez has a daughter?" she asked, looking up.  
"Apparently" Andy said and John handed her the birth certificate that had been left too. Haywood looked over that too.  
"It looks legal to me. It can be contested of course, but it seems pretty sound to me" She handed everything back to John, "Of course family court isn't exactly my forte either"  
"I just wanted a little reassurance before I took her home" John told her.  
"She's here, now?" Haywood asked, surprised.  
"Yeah, she's in the bathroom." John told her, just as the door opened and Rosalind came out. Her eyes were still huge and her hair was sticking out at odd angles, like she'd just gotten out of bed, which she probably had.  
"Rosalind, come here" He called to her and she scuttled across the room.  
"This is Valerie" he introduced her.  
"Hi, there" Haywood smiled down at her. Rosalind hid behind John.  
"She's shy, huh?" Haywood said, "Well look, if you need anything else just let me know okay?" She smiled at them all again and left. Connie and Callahan emerged from the back room and Callahan left.  
"What did Haywood say?" Connie asked John.  
"She said it was legal" he told her and led Rosalind back to the Lieutenant's office. 


	4. What have I done?

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: I will warn you now that there is very little story to this. It's basically just an idea I thought I'd spin during the off season. Each chapter is really just more like an impression of a dream than of a real story. Another apology, a name this time. I Couldn't catch it, and couldn't find it, so Dr. Devlin's first name is now Allison. If anyone can correct me, please feel free. I'll keep you updated as we move along. Hope you enjoy!  
  
"I'm hungry" Irvin looked down at the Lieutenant's daughter. She had been playing quietly with her little rag doll all day in her father's office. He wondered if she really knew what was going on. If she knew who her father was, or why she was here, or maybe if she thought Detective Clark was her father perhaps. He felt sorry for her, getting bounced around like this. He glanced at his watch. It was almost six. He figured she probably hadn't eaten since much earlier, maybe not since breakfast.  
"Um, I have some crackers here, do you like those?" he asked pulling a secret box of Ritz crackers out of one of his drawers. She nodded silently, took the offered box and went back to the office. Detective Clark came back in from the restroom.  
"Detective? Rosalind's hungry. I sent her back with a box of crackers, but she'll probably need some dinner soon" Irvin told him.  
"I've gotta stay here until we're done with this Kennedy thing" Clark replied.  
"We just got something!" Andy announced, "Connely just called, said Flarhety just pulled up in front of the apartment building"  
"Watch her!" John ordered Irvin and followed Andy out the door. Jones and Metaboy followed too. They were quiet as John knocked a couple times on the door.  
"Who the hell is that?" they heard a rough Irish accented voice ask.  
"I don't...I don't know Patrick" they heard Connely answer just before he opened the door. The four detectives rushed past him and grabbed Flarhety. He looked a lot like his cousin. He was tall, unlike Connely, but super skinny, black hair, pale as milk.  
"Patrick Flarhety, you're coming with us" Andy told him.  
"What for? Hey, you can't do this!" the man yelled at them as Jones took him out to the car. Connely was pressed up against the wall looking frightened.  
"Hey, you gonna be okay?" John asked him. He looked around and then at John.  
"Yes..yes sir, I'll be fine. Is Patrick coming back?"  
"I don't think so" John told him. He cocked his head to the side.  
"Oh. Okay." he said and then turned and went to the kitchen. John and Andy exchanged a bewildered look but left him.  
Back at the station, Andy threw the man into a chair and slammed the door shut behind him.  
"So, Patrick, where were you this morning?" he started.  
"I was at work" Flarhety answered sullenly.  
"Oh, yeah? What time?" Andy continued.  
"Seven to 5:30"  
"Seven, huh? Well, that's funny, cause we have witnesses that put you at Park's Diner about 7:30 for almost an hour" John told him, taking a seat on the other side of the table.  
"Which is funny," Andy added, "Cause that's about what time Mehgan Kennedy died, right there at Park's"  
"I don't know any Mehgan Kennedy" Flarhety said.  
"You don't?! See, we thought you'd know her cause there's been a feud between your two familys for years, something about your brother killing her dad and her brother killing your brother and so on" John decided to just put it all out. Flarhety looked up with an evil look in his eye.  
"Her whole family can die for all I care" he said darkly, "Damn Catholics!"  
"Is that why you killed her? Cause she's Catholic?" Andy asked.  
"I didn't kill her" Flarhety denied, not looking at them anymore.  
"You know how she died, Patrick? Onion. Someone put onion powder all over her food. Did you know her entire family was deathly allergic to onion, Patrick?" John waited for him to respond, but he didn't. He just kinda looked at them. Then all of the sudden he jumped up from his chair and rushed for the door. Andy caught him and John had to help restrain him enough to get him away again, banging into furniture and knocking over some chairs in the mean time. A glass bottle with a screw on top fell out of his pocket and clattered onto the floor. Andy got his hands behind his back and into cuffs while John picked the bottle up. It was small, the kind kitchen herbs came in. It was empty, but he unscrewed the top and took a whiff, while Andy stuffed Flarhety back into a chair.  
"Onion" John told the other man, handing him the bottle.  
"Now how did that get into your pocket? Why in the world would you be carryin around an empty bottle of onion powder?" Andy asked sarcastically, because they all knew the answer already.  
"Damn Catholics! If they'd just bloody leave us alone none of this would be happenin'! Me brothers would be home now, and the wench would have her bloody family! Instead I'm in bloody America, over run and surrounded by the damn Catholics!" He looked like he might try to get up again but he just sat there.  
"So you did kill Mehgan Kennedy, to avenge one of your brother's deaths" Andy said, but Flarhety didn't answer. Instead he got a strange look on his face and tried to look under the table.  
"What the hell is that?" he asked. Then John heard something move under the table. He pulled a chair out and looked.  
"Rosalind? What are you doing in here?" he asked, suddenly feeling embarressed, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't be doing. He just hoped the poor little thing wouldn't be scared to death of him like she was of everybody else now. Damn. He reached for her and she crawled out quickly and clung to his shirt when he lifted her up.  
"You're not supposed to be in here, c'mon" He started for the door, but she started screaming and trying to get out of his arms now. He couldn't keep ahold of her and was forced to set her down. She promptly scuttled into a corner and huttled there, clutching the little rag doll she never seemed to be without.  
"What's wrong, Rosalind? C'mon you can't stay in here" He reached for her again, but she just pushed herself farther into the corner, big fat tears pouring down her face.  
"No! No!" she cried, the loudest she'd done anything all day, "He'll kill me! He'll kill me! He kills Catholics!" She was terrified. John looked back at the man sitting with his hands cuffed behind his back, right on the way to the door.  
"Are you Catholic Rosalind?" he asked gently. That was something Mrs. Collins could've told him, if she was practicing a religion. He didn't go to church himself, but if her mother (or more importantly, her father) had wanted her raised Catholic he would do his best to comply. Right now, though, he just needed to get her out of this room, preferably without frightening her out of her wits. She nodded yes to his question, eyes still huge and pumping out the tears.  
"All right, look, I won't let him get you, okay? I'll protect you" She looked unwilling still, but he reached down and picked her up. She didn't scream or struggle, just hugged his throat until he thought he'd never breathe again. He started towards the door, and she started whimpering. Flarhety looked up at her. He looked.....almost repentent.  
"I won't hurt ye, lass" he said quietly when they were right beside him. John looked at Andy, suddenly suspecting they might just get a confession out of him yet. He opened the door. Connie was on the phone, Jones and Metaboy were nowhere to be seen. That left him with one choice.  
"Rita!" he called. She got up and came over.  
"Here, take her will you? She's pretty shook up" He told her, handing Rosalind to her.  
"What was she doing in there?" Rita asked.  
"Just watch her for a sec okay?" John sighed and shut the door.  
"You see faces like that all the time in Ireland" Flarhety was saying, "Little babes cryin', scared out of their minds, just cause they go to the wrong church. I seen it on dozens of Protestant faces" he was speaking quietly, not really looking at anything. He sighed heavily.  
"But not till now did I ever see it on a Catholic's face. She were terrified of me"  
"You killed Mehgan Kennedy didn't you?" John asked quietly.  
"Aye. Aye I killed the lass. She weren't ever involved in the war, just her brothers. She were innocent, she were" He let his head drop, almost to the table, "What've I done?" 


	5. Bringing her home

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: I will warn you now that there is very little story to this. It's basically just an idea I thought I'd spin during the off season. Each chapter is really just more like an impression of a dream than of a real story. Another apology, a name this time. I Couldn't catch it, and couldn't find it, so Dr. Devlin's first name is now Allison. If anyone can correct me, please feel free. I'll keep you updated as we move along. Hope you enjoy!  
  
"Okay. Um, why don't you put your backpack over there by the window?" John pointed across the room at the tiny window. Rosalind placed her backpack right under it, then turned around and watched him. He set her little suitcase and cardboard box down in the hall, thinking no one would trip over it there, at least not tonight. It was kind of late, almost eight, and he figured she would need to go to bed soon. But he was hungry and all she'd eaten all day, that he knew of, were some crackers.  
"Do you like macaroni and cheese?" he asked, a little unsure what to do now that he was alone with her. She shrugged her shoulders.  
"You've never had macaroni and cheese?" he asked, amazed. What kind of kid had never had macaroni and cheese? She shook her head no.  
"Oh, well, we'll have to have some macaroni and cheese then" he said, "Uh, you can watch TV while I make some" He flicked the TV on while she climbed up on the couch. He wasn't sure what five year olds watched now a days. Barney? Was she too old for that? He figured any cartoon would work.  
"Here we go. Winnie the Pooh"  
"I like Winnie Pooh" she told him with a cute little smile.  
"Yeah? So do I" he replied, though the truth was he hadn't seen Winnie the Pooh since...well he wasn't sure he ever had. He watched her slyly while he mixed the powdered cheese and butter into the noodles for their dinner. She swayed back and forth and sang the theme song that ended the episode. For the first time she looked like a sweet, normal little girl and John almost felt like laughing, except that it was probably the dearest thing he'd ever seen.  
"Hey, why don't you come eat?" he asked her, putting her bowl on the table that nearly blocked the enterance to the kitchenette. She slid off the couch and climbed into the chair, sitting on her knees to reach properly. She picked her fork up and poked at the orange noodles. Then she put her fork down and made the Sign of the Cross. She looked up at John.  
"I don't know it" she said, "You say it. Mommy always says the prayer"  
"Uh, I don't know it either" he told her, "Can we just say our own prayer?"  
"Oh, sure. God likes my prayers, Mommy says" She bowed her head.  
"Dear God, thank you for this noodles and macerani. Amen" John stifled a laugh.  
"That was a good prayer" he told her and then dug into his "noodles and macerani" She watched him for a moment and then followed suit, more of the noodles falling off her fork onto the table and her lap then making it into her mouth.  
"I like these orange noodles" she told him with a full mouth.  
"Well, that's good. I eat a lot of them" he said, "Listen, Rosalind, tomorrow you're going to go to a babysitters house, because I have to go back to work and you can't come with me" He waited for her to object or cry. She did neither, she just kept eating her mac and cheese.  
"Okay. Am I going to Annie's?"  
"No" he replied, assuming her babysitter in California had been Annie, "You're going with my friend's son to school and then to his babysitter. Her name is......uh, Caroline I think."  
"School's over though!" Rosalind said, putting her fork down, "I'm done"  
"Well, I guess Theo's school isn't over. Are you sure you're done?" Her bowl was still half full.  
"Yep" she said, "Do I have to be in garden again or do I get to go with the big kids?"  
"Uh, well, where did you go when you lived with your Mom?" He flinched, mentioning the dead woman, but Rosalind had spoken about her earlier with no problems. He wondered if she really understood what had happened. He wondered if she had to understand. He wondered what kind of God-aweful parent he was going to be.  
"I went to garden" she answered, "But next time I go to school I get to go with the First graders. Then I can be a big kid"  
"Well, uh, I think Theo's in garden still" he told her, using her term, "So you'll probably go with him at least for a little while"  
"Okay" she said. He could feel her little legs swinging under the table as he finnished his bowl of mac and cheese.  
"Are you ready for bed?" he asked. She was looking sleepy, and he didn't feel like messing with a bath tonight. She nodded and went to her suitcase. John put their bowls in the sink and went to unfold the couch. It just fit, if he moved the chair and table, though it wasn't really long enough for him to sleep in. He found some extra sheets and put them on the matress, and pulled an extra blanket and pillow off his own bed. Rosalind had already pulled her socks and shoes off and was trying to reach the zipper on the back of her jumper.  
"Here, I'll get it" He pulled the zipper down and then decided to go to his own room for a minute while she changed. He was pretty sure a five year old should be able to change her clothes herself without any mishaps. When he heard the bed squeeking he went back in. She had produced a small blanket with a cartoon pickle and tomatoe on the front, under which was the title "Veggie Tales", and had spread it over the blanket he had provided, which she was snuggled under.  
"You all tucked in?" he said and went to the side of the bed. She looked practically asleep already. He leaned over and kissed her forehead gently.  
"Are you my daddy?" she asked. John had been dreading this question.  
"Gran Collins said I was coming to live with my Daddy" she added.  
"Uh, no, I'm not your Daddy" he told her, "You're daddy, he's uh, he's sick right now. And I'm going to take care of you until he gets better."  
"Are you my Uncle?" she asked then.  
"Sure. Sure, I'm Uncle John" he told her, glad to come out of that conversation without any tears or complicated explinations.  
"Mommy doesn't have any brothers or sisters. That's why I came to live with Daddy. Mommy went away" She sounded a little sad as she said that.  
"Yeah, I know" John said quietly, "My Dad went away"  
"Were you sad too?" John's mouth quirked.  
"Yeah, yeah I was sad too" He kissed her cheek, "You go to sleep now. I'm going to be right in there if you need me. I left the light in the bathroom on for you, okay?" She nodded and closed her eyes, rubbing her head on her rag doll's hair. John went to his room and closed the door half way. It was only ten after nine, but he felt like he'd been awake for three days straight. And tomorrow he'd have to get up extra early to get Rosalind ready and to school and get her all registered and stuff. Connie had been kind enough to call and let Theo's school know he was coming, and she'd made arrangements for her babysitter, Caroline Hankins he thought, to pick the both of them up from school. It was a hundred dollars a week for a babysitter. How in the hell was he going to afford this? She would need new clothes eventually, and he'd have to buy more food, though he didn't think she'd really eat all that much, but then there were doctor visits and dentist visits and all the other fees that accompanied having a kid. Actually, John wasn't really sure what all that entailed, but he knew it wasn't cheap. How was he going to afford it all? He could barely afford his car and apartment as it was. He could always ask for a raise. And what was he going to tell Allison? She was supposed to come over friday night. Those plans would have to be changed. Their relationship was still....fresh. He didn't know how she felt about kids. Why was he even worrying about this so much? The Lieutenant would be better in a couple of weeks and Rosalind would go live with him. Lord knew he could pay for it better. But in the back of his head, John had a feeling he might as well keep worrying.  
That was the thought he fell asleep with. His dreams revolved around Rosalind; he saw her as a 16 year old, learning to drive, saw her going on dates with guys he had serious doubts about. He kept asking himself the same question, over and over, what kind of father was he? Was he going to turn out like his Dad? Anything but that!  
John woke up suddenly. What had he been dreaming about? Something he didn't like. Something about his Dad.....or was it about Rosalind? He sat up in bed. Speaking of Rosalind.....she was standing in the doorway, her little rag doll dangling in one hand.  
"Are you okay?" he asked sleepily.  
"I'm scared. I had a bad dream" she answered tearily. He considered getting up and taking her back to bed, like his father had done so many times, but then he remembered having bad dreams of his own, when he was much younger than Rosalind, and crawling into bed with his Mom and feeling warm and safe.  
"Why don't you come sleep here, next to me" he suggested, pushing the covers and making sure there'd be room enough for her. She practically ran. She climbed up and burrowed close to him. It was odd having something so small in bed with him. Her knees knocked into his ribs but he didn't care. He pulled the blankets up around her shoulders, turned onto his side, brushed her hair away from his mouth, and they fell asleep together. 


	6. School and a Bath

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: This is where things get weird and probably confusing. This is more like a collection of scenes from various episodes that make up the part of the story that's important to me. So imagine them stuck in various places in various episodes that are "really" about other things. It might make more sense that way. Hope you enjoy!  
  
"How'd it go last night?" Connie asked. John looked to his left. She and Theo had just gotten out of her car in front of the school.  
"Good" he answered, "We ate some mac and cheese. Had Cherios for breakfast" Connie smiled at him. That wasn't exactly what she had meant, he knew, but he didn't feel like telling her everything in front of Rosalind.  
"Rosalind, this is Theo" he introduced the two kids, "He's going to go to school with you, then you're going to go with him to the babysitter's house"  
"Hello" Theo greeted her chipperly, but Rosalind just hid behind John.  
"Hi" she said quietly.  
"I like your name" Theo said as they walked into the school building toward the office, Rosalind clinging to John's hand like there was no tomorrow.  
"Hi Helen" Connie greeted the lady behind the counter in the office, "This is Detective Clark. I called yesterday about Rosalind"  
"Oh, yes. Hello, I'm Helen Hall. We'll get you all settled. Do you have a birth certificate, school records?" Mrs. Hall gave John a few papers, which he employed her help to fill out as he wasn't sure what half the stuff meant anyway. Rosalind sat quietly in one of the chairs behind him, clutching her rag doll and looking frightened yet again. He was surprised at how quickly she had reverted to her solemn silence. When he had finally finnished, thanks to both Mrs. Hall and to Connie, Mrs. Hall told him just to take her to the same room Connie took Theo to.  
"All right Theo, you stay with Rosalind and help her learn everything, okay?" Connie told him before she let him go off into the room with the other children who sounded very ready to get on with their day.  
"Hello, you must be Rosalind Clark" the teacher, Ms. Branchard?, smiled down at the girl who was still hiding behind John.  
"Actually, her last name is Rodriguez" Connie corrected her for him.  
"Oh. Well, are you going to come in and learn with us?" Ms. Branchard seemed very nice, and seemed to like kids well enough, but Rosalind was different. Theo noticed she wasn't coming in and came back to the door.  
"Come on Rosalind, I'll be your friend" he said, offering her his hand. Rosalind looked up at John.  
"Go on" he encouraged her, "I'll pick you up later at the babysitters" She looked reluctant but took Theo's hand and let herself be led to the cubby holes against the back wall.  
"I'm sure she'll be fine" Ms. Branchard assured him.  
"She, uh, doesn't talk much. And don't try to take her doll from her, she'll throw a fit. And I packed her a lunch, but she doesn't eat much" John tried to think of anything else he could tell the teacher that might be helpful, that he had learned about the girl in the past nineteen hours.  
"We'll be fine, I'm sure Mr. Clark" she smiled and Connie pulled him away.  
"So?" she prodded, wanting to know more about last night.  
"Oh, you should've seen her" John told her, "She watched Winnie the Pooh and she was rocking back and forth and singing the theme song." He smiled at the memory, "It was cute. And then this morning she kept turning around and around in circles trying to zip up the back of her jumper thing, it was funny. She laughs a lot when no one's around, like she's a normal little kid, you know?" Connie gave him an odd sort of smile, and he wasn't sure if it was good or not.  
"So no problems then?" she asked as they reached their cars.  
"No. She had a bad dream and came and slept in my bed. She asked me if I was her dad"  
"What did you tell her?" Connie asked, opening her door.  
"The truth" John replied.  
  
Later  
  
"Uncle John!" he heard her cry just before she lept into him and practically climbed up into his arms like a monkey.  
"Hey!" he said, "How was school?" She just shrugged. Andy came in just behind him.  
"Theo!" The babysitter called, "Your dad is here!" She turned back to the men with a smile, "Hi, Andy. And you must be John Clark"  
"Yeah, it's nice to meet you." John extended a hand around Rosalind, "I wanted to thank you for taking her at such short notice"  
"Connie said it might only be for a week or so" the babysitter, Caroline, replied. She was handing Michelle to Andy.  
"Uh, yeah. We're not sure yet, what's going to happen" John replied.  
"Well just let me know if you're going to need me more permenantly" she smiled.  
"Hi Dad" Theo said as he approached, dragging a backpack behind him.  
"Hey there muchkin" Andy said, "You ready?"  
"Yeah. Bye, Caroline" the little boy answered and followed his dad out the door.  
"Bye, Theo!"  
"Well, thanks again" John said heading that way too.  
"No problem. Bye, Rosalind!" Caroline waved. Rosalind looked back at her and wiggled her fingers. John carried her down to the car and strapped her under the seat belt.  
"So what did you do at school?" John asked on the way home. She came alive again, telling him about everything she did that day, how the class had a hamster and she got to pet it, and how she was the only one who hadn't had a sandwich for lunch (he'd packed crackers and cheese and slices of apple, the only things he had that were lunch worthy) and.......well everything. He was almost sorry he'd asked by the time they got home. He was happy to find Winnie the Pooh was on the same channel it had been on last night while he made dinner for them (hot dogs and rice). Rosalind insisted she had homework to do, and so he washed the dishes while she colored a picture she'd pulled out of her backpack. As John reflected on the situation, he felt very domesticated, like off some fifties sitcom or something. Father doing the dishes while the little girl colored at the table. Well, maybe not the fifties.  
"You have to take a bath tonight" he said when she was putting her crayons away. It was general knowledge that kids didn't like to take baths so he was ready to put up with some heavy objections, maybe even a temper tantrum. But she just finnished putting the crayons away and got her nightgown.  
"I'm ready" she announced, standing by the door to the bathroom. John wasn't really sure what to do now.  
"Uh. Okay" He showed her how to work the tap, and put a towel on the floor for her so she wouldn't slip when she got out.  
"Can you do this by yourself?" he asked, hoping she'd just say yes and he could go open a beer and cool out for a few minutes. But children aren't all that obliging.  
"I can't do my back, or my hair." she told him, starting to strip. He had to wash her hair? How do you wash a little girl's hair? He was nervous enough about being in the same room with her while she took a bath. He wasn't positive about the rules regarding giving a five year old a bath, especially when she wasn't really his daughter. But then, he was her guardian and she had to have help, so....  
"Uh, okay, you get in and I'll go get a cup" he said. He remembered something about kids being paranoid about getting shampoo in their eyes. He'd just use the cup to rinse her hair out and then he wouldn't have to worry about that. When he got back she was already in the tub with a soapy washcloth, rubbing it up and down her arms.  
"Here" she handed the sopping cloth to him, splashing soapy water all over the (towel covered) floor and his shirt, then turned her back to him. He wiped it across her back, making sure to lift her hair and get her neck. He didn't feel as uncomfortable as he thought he would.  
"Okay, now your hair. Hold your breath and lay down in the tub to get it wet" he instructed her and she complied, scrunching her face up as she did so. When she sat up he rubbed the shampoo into her hair, making sure to scrub her scalp a little. This wasn't so hard. He could do this. Hopefully.  
  
"Okay, close your eyes" he told her and filled the cup he'd brought up with water, then poured it over her hair. He repeated until all the shampoo was apparently gone. He got her out of the tub and into a towel, dried her all off and left her to get into her nightgown by herself. He had her bed all pulled out and ready to go when she came out. Her hair was all stringy and wet and clinging to her cotton nightgown that had those same pickle and tomatoe on it that her blanket did. He glanced at his watch. Nine, on the dot. He had a feeling he was going to be going to bed much earlier than he was used to for a while. He had a feeling he was going to need to, he was beat. Rosalind crawled across the bed and under the covers. He bent over and kissed her forehead.  
"Good night Uncle John" she said sleepily.  
"Night sweetheart" 


	7. Introductions

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: This is where things get weird and probably confusing. This is more like a collection of scenes from various episodes that make up the part of the story that's important to me. So imagine them stuck in various places in various episodes that are "really" about other things. It might make more sense that way. Hope you enjoy!  
  
A phone message  
"Listen, uh, I know you're supposed to be coming over tomorrow, and I still want you to come, but I've.....I've got someone else here, so.....it's, well. If you don't want to come, just give me a call. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow. Bye"  
  
John opened the door.  
"Hey" Allison stepped past him. She was dressed casually in a jean skirt and black blouse, blonde hair around her shoulders, slender feet incased in strappy heels. She turned when he closed the door, slapped an enthusiastic kiss on his lips. He was tempted to lean farther into it. He resisted, pulled away.  
"Something smells good. Spagetti?" she asked, throwing her purse on the chair.  
"Yeah." John answered, checking on his noodles that were almost done.  
  
"So, I got your message. Who's here, a friend or something?"  
"Uncle John!" Rosalind came running out of his room where she was to be changing out of the jeans and t-shirt she'd gotten all muddy at school into her jumper, "I can't reach it!" John glanced at Allison, turned his sauce off and went to help Rosalind with her zipper. He brushed her long hair out of her face and turned her around to face Allison who was standing, wonderment on her face, by the couch.  
"Allison, this is Rosalind. Rosalind, this is my friend Allison. She's going to have dinner with us tonight." As soon as he'd said it, he could feel Rosalind change. She got all quiet and shy again, the tiniest smile possible curling her lips as her arm curled around his thigh. Allison blinked a couple of times and then smiled down at her.  
"Uh, hi. It's nice to meet you" she said. John sighed. It was obvious Allison was more than a little surprised. He left Rosalind standing in the middle of the room and went to strain the spagetti noodles.  
"Dinner's ready, Rosalind, go wash your hands"  
"I can't reach" she reminded him quietly. He needed to get some stools or something. Right now, though, he was trying to strain their dinner without burning the roles in the oven.  
"Uh, Allison, would you mind?" he asked.  
"Oh, sure" she said and followed Rosalind into the bathroom. He had dinner on the table when they came back in, the hem of Allison's blouse looking a little wet. They started their meal quietly, and John had the bad feeling that it was going to continue being quiet.  
"Uncle John, can I have some juice?" Rosalind asked.  
"Yeah" he answered and got up to pour her some.  
"Here, uh, why don't you let me cut that for you" Allison offered, taking Rosalind's plate and cutting the noodles into more negotiable sizes.  
  
"So, Rosalind, huh? That's a pretty name"  
"Rosalind Isabella Rodriguez" the little girl told her shyly.  
"Oh, that is pretty. How long have you been staying with your Uncle John, Rosalind?" Allison glanced at John as he handed the half-full cup of apple juice to his "neice". Rosalind didn't answer.  
"Since Tuesday, right Ros?" he answered for her, "She's staying with me until her Dad gets out of the hospital"  
"And her father is?" Allison asked, knowing he didn't have any brothers himself. Besides which, there was absolutely no familial resemblence between the little girl and the Detective.  
"Tony Rodriguez" Rosalind told her.  
"My Lieutenant" John added.  
"Oh, I see" Allison nodded and put another bite of spagetti in her mouth. She seemed to have relaxed a bit, but dinner was still quiet and uncomfortable, with Rosalind unwilling to contribute more than a word or two. John knew that if only she were a little more animate Allison would love her. She really was a cute kid, funny too, when there wasn't anyone else around.  
"Where do you go to school?" Allison asked.  
"With Theo" Ros replied, looking directly into her spagetti.  
"Who's Theo?" Allison inquired.  
"My partner's son" John explained. The whole night went like that, until it was time to put Rosalind to bed. They had watched some TV for a while, Ros on his lap, uncomfortably all squeezed on the love-seat sized couch. John decided to forgo the bath. When the latest episode of Winnie the Pooh was over, and Ros had succeeded in getting popcorn all over the floor, he announced it was time to go to bed. She seemed reluctant.  
"Come on, you can sleep in my bed tonight" he told her.  
"Yay!" she squeeled and scurried off to his room, where they'd unpacked her suitcase and box into a couple drawers he'd managed to empty for her use. Allison stayed seated on the couch. Her idea of fun on a friday night was quickly being changed.  
"I'll....be right back" John said and went back to tuck Rosalind in.  
  
AN: That's where that particular scene ends. You see now how not all of these chapters will make sense? Hey, blame Inspiration..... 


	8. Breaking the News

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: This is where things get weird and probably confusing. This is more like a collection of scenes from various episodes that make up the part of the story that's important to me. So imagine them stuck in various places in various episodes that are "really" about other things. It might make more sense that way. Hope you enjoy! (Hint: Ros is pronounced Roz)  
  
"Hey, John! The Lieutenant's awake!" Andy yelled as he ran down the steps of the station house. John was going to go park, but he just stopped and unlocked the door for Andy to hop in. He'd been on his lunch break with Allison. She was still unsure about this whole thing with Rosalind. She admired it in him that he was taking care of her, but she was obviously not one of those "oh, I love kids!" kind of women.  
"They say anything else?" John asked.  
"Nope. Just that he was awake" Andy replied. They made good time to the hospital and were soon enough being shown into the Lieutenant's room. McDowell and Ortiz were on their way from a canvas and Jones and Metaboy had been pulling in as John and Andy had been getting out of the car.  
"Hey, Lieu" Andy said as the walked in. Rodriguez was half sitting, and there were still all kinds of tubes hooked up to him.  
"Sipowitz, Clark. Hope your not taking time off the job to come see me" he said. His voice was shaky and he didn't really look all that well, but John figured no one who got shot ever did a week later.  
"Nah, nothin that can't wait" Andy said. He looked at John. They both knew someone was going to have to tell him about Rosalind. John was the obvious choice. Just then Jones and Metaboy came in though.  
"Hey Lieutenant" Metaboy said, "How ya feelin?"  
"I've been better" the man replied, "It's nice of you all to come down here"  
"Ah, no problem. We're glad you're okay" Jones told him. They chatted for a few minutes until Connie and Rita showed up. They both gave their regards to the Lieutenant, then Connie pulled John to the back of the group.  
"Here" she said, handing him a familiar rag doll, "I found this in my car" She had picked the kids up the other day. John had run back to Caroline's house to see if Rosalind had left the doll there when she had realized she'd lost it and started crying.  
"You collecting dolls now, Clark?" Rodriguez asked raspily, apparently having seen the exchange. Everyone kind of got quiet and looked back and forth between the two.  
"Ah, we've got a case to work" Metaboy said and headed for the door, "We'll see ya, Lieu"  
"Glad your better Lieu" Jones added and followed his partner. Thankfully, Andy and Connie stayed for moral support, and Rita sat down too.  
"Uh, actually it belongs to a little girl named Rosalind" he told the Lieutenant, "Rosalind Isabella Rodriguez" He wasn't sure where to go from there. He looked to Andy for guidance but his partner just shrugged.  
"Uh, this old lady brought her in to the station, looking for you. She, uh" he took a deep breath, "She said Rosalind was your daughter" The Lieutenant didn't say anything.  
"And you believed her?" he asked after a stunned moment of silence.  
"Your name's on her birth certificate" John told him. He hadn't thought to bring that particular document with him, but he figured Rodriguez would want to see it.  
"The kid's mom's name was Rose Velaquez" Andy offered. Rodriguez looked at him.  
"Rose? She moved to California about six years ago" he said.  
"Yeah, that would fit with this old lady's story. Said she babysat the kid." Rodriguez looked from one of them to the other.  
"Where's Rose?" he asked.  
"Uh...she had breast cancer. She died a few weeks ago" John told him, twisting the doll in his hands, "Apparently she left Ros in legal custody of this lady, Mildred Collins, but the lady's at least eighty and she knew she couldn't deal with a kid, so she brought her to live with you. But you were in the hospital so..she left her with me" Rodriguez's eyebrows lifted.  
"With you?"  
"Yeah. I..I made her laugh. My name's even on the papers" John replied.  
"Papers?"  
"Switching legal custody to you, or, in the event you can't take her, to John" Andy told him.  
"So, you've been talking to her for a while?" Rodriguez was confused.  
  
"No. She hand wrote it, before she took off" Rita said from the back of the room.  
"And it's legal?" the lieutenant inquired.  
"According to Haywood" Connie told him, "She's been going to school with Theo, and going to my babysitter while John's at work. She's a real cute kid, Boss" Rodriguez kind of looked at them, not really seeing them. He remembered Rose, oh yes he did. One of his sister's friends. They were together for about a month and a half. Had she really gotten pregnant in that time? There was a chance, he supposed. Was it really his kid? Probably. Rose had been pretty mild, good Catholic girl. He'd been surprised, really, when she all the sudden decided to move to California. Barely said goodbye to him. He'd tried to call her, but she never seemed to be home. She wrote to Maria a couple of times, but she had certainly never said anything about a kid. Had Maria known? Nah, she would've told him. Rose, she'd been a quiet one. No family, a cousin or something down in Cuba, but that was it. Parents had died real early, and she hadn't had any brothers and sisters. Her Cuban family was unusually distant. It would be like her not to tell him they'd had a kid together.  
"I have a daughter?" he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else in the room. It was almost unimaginable. Sure, he'd always wanted to settle down, have kids. He'd tried..was married for five years. Didn't work out. He really hadn't thought to ever have the chance again. And now at least a little piece of that dream was within reach. He had a daughter. Rosalind, Clark had said. And where was he when she'd shown up? In a hospital. Poor thing's mother had just died, and she'd been drug across the country to live with a father she'd never known, then passed onto another stranger. Precarious life, especially for a..five year old? It would have to be.  
"What's she like?" he asked.  
"Quiet" Andy said.  
"Shy" Connie said.  
"Skittish" Rita said.  
"Rambunctious as hell, laughs a lot, funny little thing, real smart, talkative, really likes some show called Veggie Tales with talking vegetables or something" John added. The other three detectives looked at him like he was nuts. He shrugged.  
"Just not around other people" he explained. Andy shook his head but Connie just smiled. She'd always suspected there was a soft spot in John Clark that would be just perfect for a dad. Of course, there was one in the Lieutenant too, and he was the real father here. Poor John. Poor Tony. Poor Rosalind. Poor all of them.  
"I wanna meet her" Rodriguez told them. John nodded.  
"I'll, uh...I'll bring her in after school. But Lieu..I don't know what she'll do, I mean..she is real shy around other people. She won't even talk to her teacher. I don't know if she was always like that, or if it's just cause her Mom died but..well, she may clam up" John could just see the scene. He didn't want to be witness to the pain on the Lieutenant's face when his own daughter wouldn't come near him, instead clinging to the legs of some man she'd only met a few days ago. How she had taken to himself so fast John wasn't sure. He felt lucky though, he was surprised to find.  
"I just want to see her." Rodriguez assured him.  
"Okay" Andy, Connie and Rita were out the door when the Lieutenant called Clark back.  
"Hey, John. I appreciate what you're doin" he said.  
"Ah, it's no prob Lieu. She's a good kid" John told him.  
"No, really. It's good of you. Listen, if you don't want to watch her anymore, you know I understand. You're a young man and.well, I'd understand. I've got a sister, Maria, who'll take her.."  
"No, Boss, really it's fine. I.kinda like havin' her around" Rodriguez looked at him for a minute.  
"Thanks"  
"No prob. I'll bring her around about one. That's when she gets off school" He smiled and took his leave.  
  
Later  
  
"Uncle John!" He was almost too late. Caroline was unlocking her car door as Ros dropped her backpack and ran across the parking lot to him. He scooped her up and gave her a kiss.  
"Hey! You shouldn't run across the parking lot like that, okay, you could get hurt" he reprimanded her, but he wasn't really upset. He loved how she always ran to him and clamored for him to pick her up whenever she saw him. She was perhaps a bit too old to be picked up and carried around, being five, but he didn't mind. She certainly wasn't heavy. He crossed the parking lot to Caroline.  
"Hi, John, what're you doing here?" she asked nicely. She was an attractive lady, brown hair and green eyes. Her husband was nice too, John had met him the other night when he'd picked Ros up.  
"Uh" he lowered his voice and put the little girl on the ground, hoping she wouldn't hear, "Her dad woke up. I'm taking her to see him" Caroline nodded knowingly.  
"Listen, is it going to be okay if I bring her by later, in case.in case I need to?"  
"Sure" Caroline assured him, "No problem"  
"Okay, you, you're coming with me" he smiled at Ros. She grabbed up her backpack and slipped her hand into his as they started back to his car.  
  
"Bye, Caroline! Bye Theo!" she called behind her cheerily. John was surprised she'd raised her voice above normal outside of his apartment. And she was even humming to herself.  
"Bye Rosalind!" Caroline called back and he could hear the surprise in her voice too. Maybe he would have a happy little girl to present to her father.  
But she got quieter the longer they were in the car.  
"Where are we going Uncle John?" she asked, obviously aware they weren't going home.  
"We're going to the hospital" he told her warily. He could feel her tensing up.  
"Why?" she asked. He had a feeling she'd spent a lot of time in a hospital.  
"You're dad is better" he replied, "He wants to meet you"  
"How much better?" she inquired. Ah. So she was acquainted with the fact that "better" meant just that..better. Not cured. Not ready to go home. Just better.  
"I don't know, Ros" he answered truthfully, "But he was really excited that you were coming to visit" he added. He wasn't sure "excited" was the right word, but no harm in making the girl feel like she was wanted.  
They got to the hospital a few minutes later. A nurse tried to stop them, saying kids weren't allowed in, but John strategically flashed his badge and asked again. She let them pass. He pushed the door open slowly and had to pull Rosalind in. The Lieutenant was asleep. He still looked kind of...tired. Rosalind just looked at him.  
"Is that my daddy?" she asked quietly.  
"Yeah. Yeah, that's your daddy" John answered. 


	9. Love Triangle

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: This is where things get weird and probably confusing. This is more like a collection of scenes from various episodes that make up the part of the story that's important to me. So imagine them stuck in various places in various episodes that are "really" about other things. It might make more sense that way. Hope you enjoy! (Hint: Ros is pronounced Roz)  
  
Ros put her backpack down and dug around in the outside pocket. John wasn't sure if he should wake the Lieutenant up, or if they should just make some kind of loud noise and let him wake up. He just stood there, Ros digging in her backpack, for a second.  
"I found it!" she announced and pulled a picture out of her backpack. She didn't hand it to John, but he could see what it was a picture of. It was the Lieutenant and a young woman, probably at some kind of family picnic or something because it was at a park. The woman was hispanic too, with very long dark brown hair that was blowing in the wind. Seeing the picture, he could see how Ros looked a little bit like both of her parents. She had her father's eyes, but her mother's smile.  
John didn't have to worry about waking the Lieutenant up because Ros did it for him. She pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and climbed up on it, holding the picture next to her father's face. She scruitinized it for a moment.  
"Yep. That's him" she said as if it had been in doubt. That's when Rodriguez woke up. Ros was right there by his face and it seemed to startle him.  
"Hello!" she said.  
"Here, Ros, back up a little" John pulled the chair away from the bed a little. He was uncomfortable now. Very uncomfortable. Should he leave? Should he stay?  
"Uh, Rosalind, this is your Dad" he introduced them, not sure what name he should use to introduce the man.  
"Are you Tony Rodriguez?" she asked as if nothing terribly important were going on.  
"Yeah. How'd you know that?" Tony asked, pressing a button so he could sit up a little more.  
"Mommy told me" she held the picture out, "See, that's you. Rodriguez is my last name too, you know"  
"Is it?" Tony studied the picture, "I remember this day. Your mom and I went to a Fourth of July party in the park with my sister" He gave the picture back to the little girl.  
"So what else do you know about me?" he asked.  
"You're a police and you help people be safe" she said, looking down at the picture instead of up at him. Tony studied her a minute. She looked a lot like Rose. And a little like Maria. She wasn't being all quiet and skittish like Clark had feared, but maybe that was because the man was still in the room. He had taken a seat on the other side of the room.  
"Yeah, I do that. What did your mommy do?" The last time he'd seen Rose she was working on a nursing degree.  
"She helped people feel better at the hospital" Rosalind answered, finally looking back up at him. So, Rose had accomplished that, at least. Good. God, he wished he'd known all of this. He wished he wouldn't have stopped calling. He wished she would've called him. He wished a lot of things.  
"Why are you in the hospital?" Rosalind asked him. Tony considered how best to explain to her.  
"A bad man hurt me" he told her.  
"Mommy went to the hospital a lot. She was sick." The little girl almost looked like she would cry, but didn't. Clark had said Rose had died of breast cancer. Cancer? She'd barely been......well she would be about 29 now. 30 maybe, he couldn't remember when her birthday was.  
"I'm sure she didn't mean to get sick" he said, "I'm sure she didn't want to leave you" Rosalind looked up at him, with a very little smile.  
"She said she'd watch me from Heaven to make sure I brush my teeth" she said.  
"I'm sure she is" Tony replied. There was a lull in the conversation and he wasn't sure what to say. Clark was still sitting in the back of the room, but it was obvious he didn't really know what to do either.  
"Ros, why don't you tell your dad what you did in school today" he said finally. He gave the Lieutenant an apologetic look and Tony wondered for a second what that was all about but he didn't have to wonder long. Rosalind burst into conversation, telling him everything she could probably bring to mind as quick as she could get it out. He had to struggle to get it all and manage to put in an attentive "oh, really?" or "that's neat" here and there.  
"I like coloring, I have lots of pictures, do you want to see?" she finally stopped and looked at him for an answer.  
"Sure" he said and she hopped out of her chair and drug her little backpack over. She opened up the big part and pulled out a dozen papers that looked like they had been ripped out of a dozen coloring books. She spread them out on his legs. They actually weren't bad, especially for a five year old. Most of them were even in the lines for the most part. She had to explain who or what was in each picture. But he didn't mind so much. Clark had been the right one. She was rambunctious and talkative and by the looks of it smart as a whip. Then she pulled one out that she had drawn herself. It was three stick figures, one with a red "dress" on and long brown "hair", another in a blue "suit" with yellow buttons on it, and then a little figure in blue and green. He had an idea of what this was a picture of.  
"And I made this one by myself. See, this one is Mommy and this one is you, and this is me" she pointed to each figure as she told him.  
"That's real good" Tony told her, feeling his throat tighten up. Surely because of the meds. Or the pain. Or both. Or maybe none of them.  
"You can have it, if you want" Tony knew a milestone when he heard one. He smiled down at her.  
"Yeah, yeah I'll hang it up on my wall, right there" he put the picture on the table next to him. The door opened a nurse poked her head in.  
"I'm sorry, but visiting time is over for now" she told them.  
"Come on, Ros, I'll take you back to Caroline's" Clark said, getting up from his seat in the back and helping collect the colored pictures.  
"You come back and see me tomorrow, okay?" Tony asked, glancing at John to see if it would be doable. John nodded.  
"Okay." Ros smiled at her Dad as she went out the door, "Bye Daddy" This time Tony knew it wasn't anything but threatening tears that made his throat tighten up.  
"Bye, Ros" 


	10. The News

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: This is where things get weird and probably confusing. This is more like a collection of scenes from various episodes that make up the part of the story that's important to me. So imagine them stuck in various places in various episodes that are "really" about other things. It might make more sense that way. Hope you enjoy! (Hint: Ros is pronounced Roz)  
  
"Where's Daddy?" It was a question John wished he could answer himself. He knew they were in the right room, but there was no one in the bed. Why would they have moved the Lieu unless............he'd gotten better? But that couldn't be...they would've gotten a call. Of course, they should've gotten a call anyway. It was indeed a mystery.  
"Excuse me, sir" a nurse opened the door. She looked displeased.  
"I'm sorry but you can't be in here now"  
"Um, where's Lieutenant Rodriguez?" he asked. She straightened up a little.  
"Are you family?" she asked.  
"No, but I'm watching his daughter for him" John answered. The nurse took a deep breath and motioned him into the hall. He raised an eyebrow.  
"Uh, Ros, you stay here for a minute okay?" he let go of her hand and shut her in the room. He turned around to face the nurse.  
"Lieutenant Rodriquez was moved to intensive care about an hour ago" she told him.  
"Intensive care?" John shook his head, not following.  
"His lung collapsed again. While he was in surgery we discovered some internal bleeding that had restarted, and his heart rhythms have been unsteady"  
"Un...unsteady, what does that mean?" he demanded. The nurse looked even more upset.  
"Let me go get the doctor" she said and took off before John could object. He rolled his eyes and went back into the room to wait for the doctor. Ros was sitting on the floor, humming to herself and playing with her rag doll. She looked up when he walked in.  
"Did you find Daddy?" she asked.  
"Uh, no" he said, but just then the doctor walked in.  
"Detective Clark?" he asked, opening the door again. John sighed and followed.  
"Look, can you tell me what's going on?" he asked a little more forcefully than perhaps he should've.  
"I'm sorry. Mr. Rodriguez is in intensive care"  
"Yeah, yeah, the nurse said that. She said his heart beat was unsteady or something" John said.  
"Yes" the Doctor sighed too and John felt bad news coming, "That means that there's a good chance he will go into cardiac arrest. If he does, the internal bleeding he already has will intensify, and his lung could collapse again" He held up a hand before John could say anything, "Now, if that happens, I don't..........I don't think we'll be able to reinflate it" John stopped thinking. They couldn't reinflate the Lieu's lung? But.....  
"But you can't live with just one lung" The Doctor nodded.  
"No, you can't. If his lung collapses again, I'm afraid he won't make it" John's world seemed to shrink and explode at the same time.  
"I'm sorry" the doctor said but John couldn't hear him. All he could hear was the happy little hum of a precious little girl waiting to see her Daddy.......  
  
Later  
  
"Clark, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost" John looked up at Andy.  
"I just came from the hospital" he told him, "The Lieu crashed" The entire room stopped. Everyone looked at him, shock clearly evident on their faces.  
"What do you mean 'crashed'?" Jones asked.  
"Uh, his lung collapsed and then there was internal bleeding and they're worried about his heart" he answered, wiping at his face. Everyone kind of looked around at each other. The Lieu could die? None of them had even considered it. Not even John, though he'd had a bad feeling in the back of his head ever since Rosalind had showed up. Still, no one said anything to each other, and the seconds went on.  
  
Later  
  
"Rosalind, stop jumping on the bed!" John yelled across the apartment. She'd been jumping on his bed for the last half hour while he fixed dinner, even though she'd fallen off three times already and John had told her repeatedly to knock it off. He could hear her squealing with delight though. At least she was opening up a little, her teacher even said she'd spoken to someone other than Theo at school today when he'd picked her up. And what was going to happen if Rodriguez died? How far would that set her back? Would she ever talk to anyone ever again? Of course, maybe she wouldn't even care. She'd met the man once, and she wasn't having to suffer through a long illness like she'd gone through with her mom.  
He heard her crash again and rolled his eyes as he flicked the burner off and went to go see if she was okay. She was rubbing her foot and it looked like it might be bruised but nothing bad. He left her sitting on the floor to go answer the phone.  
"Hello?"  
"Detective John Clark?"  
"Yeah, that's me"  
"This is Doctor Cardiver..............." John listened quietly to what the man had to say. He let out a deep breath and tried not to drop the phone.  
"His sister has already been called. We were told to call you, you're taking care of his daughter?"  
"Yeah, yeah, thanks" John replied and hung the phone up. He took a few steadying breaths and walked to his bedroom slowly. Rosalind looked up at him from the floor. He kneeled down beside her.  
"Rosalind....something bad happened today" he started, "You're Daddy got real sick and...." Would she understand? How had she put it? "And he went away" She didn't burst out in tears, though he kind of felt like it, but she got real quiet. She blinked a few dozen times and stared at the floor.  
"Do I have to go back to Gran Collins?" she asked quietly. She sounded so terrified and sad John's heart nearly broke. He gathered her up in his arms and put a kiss on top of her head.  
"No, no you don't have to go back" he told her. He could feel her hot tears through his t-shirt now.  
"What's going to happen to me?" she cried. John thought about The Lieutenant's sister, and all the sudden wasn't sure.  
"I don't know exactly just yet, but listen" he pushed her away a little so she could see his face, "No matter what, I will be there for you, okay? I'm going to see if you can stay with me, but if you can't I will always be there and I will come see you everyday. I'm not going to go away" He smiled at her sadly, "Everything's going to be okay, Rosalind. I love you" 


	11. The Funeral

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: I'm not sure any of these scenes would make a good length for a "chapter" so I stuck them all together. This is more like a collection of scenes from various "episodes" that make up the part of the story that's important to me. So imagine them stuck in various places in various episodes that are "really" about other things. It might make more sense that way. Hope you enjoy! (Hint: Ros is pronounced Roz)  
  
John had bought Rosalind a dark dark navy blue dress and put her hair back in a single ponytail. She sat quietly in the pew next to him, in one of the rows reserved for family. John had been surprised when a young man asked who he was and then told him to join the rest of the family.  
"But I'm not..." he had objected.  
"But she is" the young man had nodded at Rosalind who was hanging onto his hand. So they had gone to the front of the church. It was a lovely church, not at all what John would've expected. The walls were an ivory white with the traditional stained glassed windows. The Altar was an oval "stage" that stuck out into the room, and there was a large "dome" in the roof with a dipiction of a Heavenly scene. There was no wood, except the pews, and it was brightly lit, further spurring the preconceived ideas John had about Catholic churches.  
John didn't have a chance to say anything to any of the family before the service had started. Actually, he'd been afraid he was going to be late, due to Rosalind's ponytail. The whole squad sat in the pew behind them though and he felt slightly reassured.  
The priest was young and had a nice voice, and, although the funeral was a full Mass, it seemed to pass quickly enough. John could barely believe it as he watched six Puerto Rican men carry out the casket that the Lieutenant was lied out in. They all got in their cars and drove out to the cemetary where the funeral was finished. Rosalind was quiet the entire time, clutching her doll to her chest with one hand and clutching his hand with the other. She looked small and afraid, but she didn't shed a single tear. John wasn't sure if he was proud of that or not. He remembered crying a bit when his mother died, and he remembered his father telling him to stop. He hadn't cried at his father's service at all. Not a single tear. Perhaps he should've....  
When the service was over and they were all back at the Lieu's grandmother's house, he finally got the chance to speak with the rest of the squad.  
"Hey" Connie gave him a hug, "You okay?" Everyone was acting like it had been his brother or something.  
"Yeah. I'm fine" he answered truthfully. He, of course, deeply regretted the Lieu's death, and he was going to miss him of course, but it hadn't been a big blow to his world or anything. At least, not yet. He wasn't sure he had fully realized what had happened yet. Connie bent down to Rosalind's height.  
"Hi, sweetie. Are you okay?" she asked kindly. Rosalind didn't respond. She just stared at the floor, and her grip on the two of John's fingers her hand fit around tightened.  
"I can't believe this" Andy said.  
"Yeah" Jones added. John noticed he had an arm around Haywood's waist. Was that on again?  
"What're you going to do?" Rita asked him.  
"I don't know. I haven't spoken to any of them yet" He indicated the group of family standing not far off. Just then, a young woman raised her head and looked directly at him. She excused herself and crossed the room.  
"Hello, you must be Tony's squad" she said, smiling at all of them.  
"Yeah, I'm Andy Sipowitz, this is Connie McDowell, Jones, Rita Ortiz, Greg Metaboy and."  
"John Clark" she finished for him, smiling at John, "Tony told us when we went in to see him the other day" She stopped speaking, looked like she swallowed some tears, and then bent down.  
"And you must be Rosalind" She studied the child for a moment, and John was pretty sure he saw amazement and happiness on her face. Rosalind backed up a little.  
"She, uh, doesn't like strangers" John explained. The woman straightened up.  
"Oh." She smiled at him, "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Maria, Tony's sister" She smiled around at all of them.  
"Oh, uh, Rosalind, this is your Aunt Maria" he looked at Maria to make sure it was okay and she nodded enthusiastically. Rosalind tugged on his hand and he bent over so he could hear her whispered question.  
"No, not like me. She was your Daddy's sister." He answered. She tugged on him again.  
"I don't know" he replied and looked at Maria, "She wants to know if she has to come live with you now" Maria looked down at the little girl.  
"Do you want to come live with me, or do you like living with John?" she asked. Rosalind looked up at John and then back at Maria.  
"I like Uncle John" she said softly. Maria smiled warmly.  
"Well, then you can stay with your Uncle John"  
  
Some days later...  
  
"Where is she?" Allison asked, looking around the apartment.  
"She's at my partner's house" he told her, "She's friend's with his boy" She nodded slowly and pushed the rest of her dinner around with her fork. Finally she laid it down and looked at him.  
"Look, John, I think it's great what you're doing for her, really I do" she started.  
"But?" John prodded.  
"But..I'm just not ready to be in a relationship with.children..involved." John nodded. He had figured that's what she was going to say. She glanced around and then picked her purse up. He walked her silently to the door. She turned around.  
"Hey.." John just looked at her.  
"Yeah" he said and closed the door.  
  
A bit later.....  
  
"Hey!" John greeted Rita as she stepped through the door.  
"Hi" she replied. She had promised Connie she'd stop by to see how things were going. She had been curious herself, actually. Could John have really changed enough to take care of a little girl? Was he sensitive with her? Was he patient? Was he tough enough with her?  
"Uh, Rosalind come eat!" he called towards his bedroom. Rita looked around and saw, besides a few coloring books and a cartoon-covered blanket on the couch, the apartment was in good order.  
"I want orange noodles!" Rosalind's voice yelled back. Rita had never heard it so loud.  
"Well we're having red noodles!" John yelled back, and rolled his eyes. Rita noticed he was cutting some spagetti noodles up on a plate.  
"I want orange noodles!" Rosalind cried again, more obstinately this time.  
"We had orange noodles last night!"  
"I want orange noodles!"  
"Well, Rita wants red noodles!" John cried back. He looked at Rita.  
"Please stay and eat or I'll never get her to" he asked quietly.  
"Sure" Rita replied. There was no sound from the bedroom for a minute and then Rosalind came running out, pell mell. She stopped short just in front of Rita.  
"Hello" she said brightly.  
"Hi" Rita smiled back.  
"You don't really want red noodles. You like orange noodles better, don't you, Rita?" Rita almost laughed. Rosalind was obviously trying to coerce her, by smiling and nodding. It was the cutest thing, an the most animate Rita had ever seen the little girl.  
"No, I like red noodles" Rita answered and took a seat at the small table. Rosalind just stood and stared, astounded that her powers of persuasion hadn't worked charms for her. Rita heard her sigh heavily before she climbed up into her chair and John placed her plate in front of her.  
"Hey, Ros, why don't you tell Rita what you did in school today" he said and winked mischievously at Rita. 


	12. Court Ordered Daddy

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: This is more like a collection of scenes from various "episodes" that make up the part of the story that's important to me. So imagine them stuck in various places in various episodes that are "really" about other things. It might make more sense that way. Hope you enjoy!  
  
"Rosalind, you're making me late!" John shouted angrily. Why did she have to be such a pain today?  
"I don't want to go!" she shouted back. John went back into the living room. Where was she?  
"Well too bad!" he said, watching to see where her voice came from, "We have to go or you can't stay with me"  
"You said I could!" The blankets? It just looked like a heap to him, but then she was small. He strode over and pulled them up. There she was, curled in a little ball underneath them all. Her hair was sticking up all over the place and her jumper was wrinkled again.  
"C'mon" he said and pulled her up by her arm.  
"No! I don't want to! I don't want to!" She screamed and tried to run away again. John picked her up and had to be careful of her flailing hands. He didn't want to show up with a black eye. He grabbed her backpack and slammed the apartment door behind him. He had to put Rosalind down to lock the door and was relieved when she didn't run away down the hall.  
"Stop pouting" he said. She stuck her tounge out at him. John rolled his eyes, grabbed her hand and headed down to the car.  
"What took so long?" Maria asked when they walked into the courtroom, "You're almost late" John sighed.  
"Rosalind decided she didn't want to come" he told her. The little girl was splayed across his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, asleep.  
"She's cranky today, she didn't go to bed on time last night" he added, taking a seat behind the table next to his lawyer.  
"You shouldn't carry her around like that" Maria scolded him, "She's too big" John ignored her, again, and set Rosalind in the chair next to him, waking her up.  
"Shh..sit here and be quiet for just a little while okay?" he told her. She nodded groggily. Just then the judge walked in. They went through the whole "herey herey" thing, John's lawyer presented the papers Mildred Collins had left and the judge asked if anyone wished to contest them. John held his breath for a moment, but nobody said anything. The judge looked the papers over again.  
"This court hereby declares John Clark legal guardian of Rosalind Isabella Rodriguez" he said and banged his gavel. John let his breath out. He'd been afraid, for just a second, that the judge would reverse the orders.  
"Can we go home now?" Rosalind asked testily. She was fully awake again.  
"I have to go to work" he told her, "You're going with Aunt Maria" Rosalind sighed and picked up her own backpack.  
"I'll see you at lunch" he told her and jogged out. The new Lieutenant, Barbados, wasn't a bad fella but he didn't want to be any later than he had to be. He walked into the station ten minutes before he had expected to.  
"Hey, how'd it go?" Andy asked.  
"No prob" John answered nonchalantly.  
"Congratulations!" Connie exclaimed and gave him a hug. John let himself grin a little. Yeah, congratulations indeed!  
That night........  
"Do I get to stay with you forever, now?" Rosalind asked quietly as he tucked the blankets around her.  
"Yep. Forever" he answered with a pleased kind of feeling, even if she had been a brat all day.  
"Are you my Daddy now, then?" she inquired. He looked down at her, a little surprised. She waited for the answer, watching him with huge brown eyes, tangled brown/black hair, her little doll squeezed close to her face. What should he answer? He didn't want her to forget about her real father. That wasn't likely to happen, though, because she was going to be babysat by his sister, Maria, while he was at work. She had two kids herself and thought it would better for Rosalind to spend time with a family. Plus, she could learn their family traditions and what not too. Maria had even offered to come by and pick her up for church on Sundays. John had considered it, but he remembered hearing somewhere that kids learned from example. If he wanted her to go to church on Sundays, then he had better set an example for her. He kind of groaned at the thought. She wasn't even really old enough to understand what was going on at church, and he didn't have any plans to become Catholic any time soon. But he had signed up for the long haul and he wasn't backing out now. He was going to do this right.  
  
"Yeah" he replied finally, "Yeah, I'm your Daddy now" She didn't say anything so he just kissed her forehead and said goodnight.  
"Goodnight, Daddy" 


	13. Grace O'Malley

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: This is more like a collection of scenes from various "episodes" that make up the part of the story that's important to me. So imagine them stuck in various places in various episodes that are "really" about other things. It might make more sense that way. Hope you enjoy!  
  
"I want to watch......Ariel!" Rosalind answered. John rolled his eyes.  
"Again?" he asked. Rosalind nodded happily. He took the tape from her and popped it into the VCR. He had borrowed four tapes from Andy for her. He didn't know what to let her watch on TV, so he decided she just shouldn't watch it at all. But he knew every song from The Little Mermaid, all the names of the puppies from 101 Dalmations, he could quote half of Beauty and the Beast from heart and if he had to watch Sleeping Beauty again he'd croak. He grabbed the bowl of popcorn out of the microwave and sat down next to her on the couch. But by the time the royal concert rolled around and they opened the shell to find Ariel wasn't in it, he was ready to scream. So he shut it off and put the popcorn bowl on the table.  
"Hey!" Rosalind objected, "It's not bedtime yet!"  
"I know it's not bed time yet" John answered, "Put your coat on" Rosalind took her coat from him and shoved her arms through the sleeves.  
"Where are we going?" she asked curiously.  
"We're going to Wal-Mart" he answered. When they got there, he headed straight for the entertainment section. There were walls and carts of movies and he had no idea what she would like.  
"Here, pick some out" he told her, letting go of her hand.  
"Okay" she said excitedly and went to his left to look at the movies on a stand. He didn't see much over there that he thought she'd be picking so he looked over the videos in front of him. Maybe he'd get something too. All that little kid stuff couldn't be healthy for a man his age. After a few minutes Rosalind brought three tapes over.  
"These?" she asked, handing them to him. John looked at the titles. It wasn't anything he had ever heard of. Digimon? What was that? It was a cartoon, but that didn't necissarily mean it was okay for her to watch. Plus it was some chineese animation crap. He didn't know about that. Then there was Monsters Inc. and Ice Age.  
"Here, these two are okay" he said and handed them back to her, "Pick out a couple more" He was going to have to return the tapes to Andy eventually and he didn't want to be stuck with an even smaller selection than they had now. She toddled off to find more tapes. John flipped the Digimon tape over and read the back, still confused about whether or not it was really for kids.  
"Pretty much anything on that left wall over there is okay" a voice said to his right. He looked up. A very lovely young lady was smiling at him. She had bright orange hair and crystal green eyes. Her skin was creamy but she had a splattering of orangeish brown freckles across her nose. She was a good head shorter than John, but her smile was so enchanting he found he couldn't look away.  
"She's about five, six?" John shook himself.  
"Oh, uh, yeah" he answered. The woman nodded.  
"Pretty much anything on that wall over there, where she's looking" she repeated, "I know it's not always easy to tell what's actually for kids or not. You can't always go with the cartoons"  
"Oh, yeah" he said and felt like a dolt.  
"Single dad?" she asked. She had a great voice, soft and silky, but not girly. Just.......feminine.  
"Yeah" he replied, and started wondering if he knew any other words. She smiled at him and he could tell she was trying not to laugh.  
"Sorry, I just....uh, John, John Clark" he held a hand out. She grabbed it. She had a very firm handshake. In fact if her hands hadn't been so small, soft and delicate he would've thought she was a man.  
"Doctor Grace O'Malley" she introduced herself.  
"Doctor, huh?" John said. He'd had enough of doctors.  
"Not medical. I'm a child psyche analyst" she replied.  
"Child psyche analyst?" That was an odd profession. Why, he didn't know. It just seemed to be.  
"Yeah, I..."  
"Daddy! Daddy, Daddy!" Rosalind screamed excitedly, startling him. She ran over and started tugging on his hand, pulling him over to another rack of videos.  
"Look!" she pointed, "Veggie Tales!"  
"Ah! You have excellent taste" Grace had followed them, "Might I suggest Larryboy and the Fib from Outer Space, or Are You My Neighbor? Those are my favorites" She smiled at the confused look on John's face.  
"Daddy, can we get some?" Rosalind asked hopefully.  
"Yeah, sure, pick a few out" he replied.  
"You know if she likes Veggie Tales, there's also a series called 1,2,3 Penguins she might enjoy" Grace told him.  
"Thanks" he replied.  
"This one, and this one, and this one, and this one" Rosalind was saying, picking up tapes and handin them to him. He couldn't hold them all.  
"Wait, Ros, you have this one twice, and how many do you need anyway? Wait, Rosalind...." he sputtered, trying to curb his daughter's shopping spree. He could hear Grace laughing beside him.  
"Good luck!" she called as she walked away. John let the tapes spill to the ground as he watched. Maybe he wasn't done with doctors after all................... 


	14. Fun in a Grocery Store

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: This is more like a collection of scenes from various "episodes" that make up the part of the story that's important to me. So imagine them stuck in various places in various episodes that are "really" about other things. It might make more sense that way. Hope you enjoy!  
  
"And this, and this, and this, and this" John walked along behind her, pulling everything she put in the cart out and putting it back on the shelf. He was too tired to argue with her about just picking any old thing up off the shelf so he just let her do it. Every once in a while she put something in that he would have grabbed himslef and then he just told her to grab a couple more.  
"And orange noodles, and more orange noodles, and more orange noodles" she chanted, dumping four boxes of mac and cheese into the cart.  
"I think someone's an 'orange noodle' addict" a pleasant voice said from behind him. John stopped and turned around.  
"Oh. Hey, Grace right?" He remembered her name like he remembered his own, but he wasn't going to let her know that. She smiled at him like she knew exactly what he was thinking.  
"Yep. And you are Rosalind, right?" she asked the little girl who had since dumped another four boxes of macaroni and cheese into their cart.  
"Okay, Ros, that's enough" John said to stop her.  
"You're the lady who likes Veggie Tales" Rosalind ignored his order, but stopped with just one more box.  
"That's me, Veggie Tale Lady" Grace laughed. She looked at John and shrugged.  
"It's better than 'Creepy Stranger Lady Who Tells Strange Men What to Buy for Their Daughters" John laughed.  
"Nah, I appreciated it. I hate you, now, but I find Larryboy is a very stimulating conversation starter" he joked. She laughed. He liked her laugh. A lot. Rosalind started off down the aisle again and they followed her.  
"So, you live around here?" he asked, glad he could find his tounge at all. Wal-Mart, the grocery, she had to live somewhere nearby.  
"Yeah, actually, I just live down the street" she answered, "My brothers decided my last apartment was not to their liking, so they fronted the money for me to move" She rolled her eyes.  
"Older brothers?"  
"Yes" she sounded annoyed but the smile on her lips betrayed the fact that she really didn't mind them all that much.  
"Ah. I know the feeling. I had an imaginary friend once" he told her, "He was always pushing me around, getting me into trouble, telling my Dad I was the one that had thrown the ball through the window, when, of course, it had actually been him" John was rewarded with another one of her great laughs.  
"Only child?" she asked. Rosalind was still skipping ahead of them, plopping things they probably didn't need in the cart. John was too distracted to care much at the moment, though.  
"Yeah" he replied.  
"You know, statistically, only children make better parents and tend to have really big familys" she smiled and nudged him with her elbow. He smiled back at her. They walked through the rest of the store, talking, while Rosalind skipped ahead of them and put whatever was brightly colored into their cart. When they finally got to the register he found himself pulling more stuff out than he put on the counter. A package of gumballs, a box of dry milk, a bucket of sidewalk chalk? What was she going to do with sidewalk chalk, they didn't even have a sidewalk!  
"Here" Grace held her hand out for the bucket, "I'll take that" John gave her the chalk.  
"No, that's my chalk!" Rosalind objected, reaching up for the bucket Grace had put in her little basket.  
"Ros, we don't have a sidewalk" he told her as the man rang up the rest of the groceries.  
"Ah, but I do" Grace said, "Tell you what, Rosalind, I'll buy the chalk, and maybe sometime you can come over and play with it, okay?" Rosalind pouted but nodded. Finally they all got through the line and made it outside. The sun had sunk and a chilly breeze made John stop and zip Ros's jacket up. They had walked the block and a half to the store. Apparently, so had Grace, for she walked along beside them as they headed for home. She stopped in front of a tall, somewhat elegant building that John recognized.  
"This is me" she said, looking up and then back at him.  
"You're kidding!" he said. She shook her head.  
"That's us" He nodded his head across the street to their own apartment building.  
"Small world" she smiled again. John could get lost in that smile. "Goodnight!" she called as she turned and climbed the steps.  
"Night!" John called back just before she disappeared through the door. He looked down at Rosalind, staggering under the weight of the half gallon of milk she carried.  
"C'mon, Ros" he said, "Let's go home" 


	15. A Great Way to Start the Day

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: This is more like a collection of scenes from various "episodes" that make up the part of the story that's important to me. So imagine them stuck in various places in various episodes that are "really" about other things. This takes place during the school year, but kinda skips the summer. Whatever. Hope you enjoy!  
  
"Great way to start the day, huh?" Andy said, pushing the door to the bathroom open. The body of a young woman was layed out at an odd angle on the floor, a pool of blood still growing around her.  
"Yeah" John replied, glancing around the bathroom, looking for anything out of place. The school had already sent most of the kids home for the day, but the teachers were all still there. None of them had seen anything, or knew of anyone who had seen the dead teacher that day. She hadn't even been found until one of the teachers had left class to use the restroom, about an hour and a half after school had started. They hadn't been expecting Ms. Gorthrop (the DOA) that day as she had called in the day before saying she was terribly sick.  
"Looks like a stabbing" Andy reported, bending down to get a closer look at the wounds.  
"Jesus" he swore and stepped away again. John took a look.  
"Ah, gawd!" he exclaimed too. The woman barely had a stomach anymore she'd been stabbed so many times.  
"Detectives!" a uniform called them over, "Principle" the man nodded at the older man waiting in the hallway. Andy and John nodded at him.  
"You the Principle?" Andy asked.  
"Yes. Alan Detrick" the man replied. He was short, balding, and dressed impeciably in a three piece suit.  
"You know who might've done this?" Andy inquired. Detrick shook his head.  
"No, no. Ms. Gorthrop was an upstanding woman. I can't imagine who would've...."  
"Anybody come by to see her recently, called for her?" John asked, trying to get to the point.  
"Uh, yes, yes, a few weeks ago a young gentleman stopped by" Detrick answered, screwing his face up, obviously trying to recall the details, "He seemed to be a fine gentleman. An old aquaintence if I do recall"  
"And this aquaintence, he got a name?" Andy pushed.  
"Oh,yes, but, well I don't recall. The name should be in the book, though, Mrs. Holcomb keeps records of every visitor to the school" Detrick responded, "I'll go get that for you!" He hurried off down the hall, intent on his very important mission. John shook his head as he took off, glad Rosalind went to a different school. As he walked away, Jones and Metaboy walked up.  
"Hey" Jones greeted them, "What d'we got?"  
"Ah, dead teacher. No suspects, no witnesses" Andy answered. But just then a detective called them back to the scene. They opened the bathroom door and looked in. One of the uniforms was standing next to a now opened stall. A little boy was crouching on the toilet, his eyes huge, and his cheeks tear stained.  
"Phillip?" a woman's voice said from behind them. The detectives all turned around. One of the teacher's was standing behind them, a tall, middle aged woman.  
"You know him?" Andy asked.  
"He's my son" she answered. The uniform was carrying the boy through the bathroom to them. He looked about nine, maybe ten. He wrapped his arms around his mother's waist as soon as he was set down again.  
"There any chance he saw what happened, Mrs....."  
"Gershwin. I don't know. I think Eleanor, uh, Mrs. Parkins, said that he went to the bathroom about an hour ago and never came back."  
"Mrs. Parkins?" Jones prodded.  
"Oh, she's his teacher. He has a tendency playing hide and seek in the middle of the school day" The woman was stroking her child's head, while staring wild eye'd at them, "I...I....it's...I guess...it's possible...." John took a deep breath and crouched down so he was face to face with the little boy.  
"Hi Phillip. Did you see what happened in there?" he asked. The little boy's eyes were closed tightly and he gave no indication that he had even heard the question John had asked.  
"Phillip, did you see who hurt Ms. Gorthrop?" John rephrased. Still no response. John stood back up.  
"I think we're going to need a psychologist or something" he told Andy.  
"Yeah" he answered.  
"You guys go, we'll stay here and canvas" Jones told them.  
"Okay. Ma'am, will you come with us?" John gestured to the door. Mrs. Gershwin led the way.  
  
Later...in the car pulling up to the Gershwin's house....  
  
"What'd the Lieu say?" Andy asked. John had just called the station.  
"He said there's a shrink on the way" he replied, "Said she agreed that the best place to talk to him would be his house" Mrs. Gershwin pulled into the drive way just ahead of them. The house was a huge old victorian building with plenty of yard in front and a long driveway. John figured the Gershwin's had some money.  
"They get the name from Detrick?" Andy inquired as he pulled in behind her.  
"Yeah, Boo Mitchum. Doesn't have a record. Connie's trying to get ahold of Gorthrop's sister, see if she knows him" John replied. The Gershwins were already in the house and he started to follow Andy up to the front door when a little silver Focus pulled up to the house. They both stopped and turned to wait for who they expected was the doctor they'd ordered. John felt his heart pick up a little speed when a red-head stepped out.  
"Grace!" he called.  
"You know her?" Andy asked under his breath. John didn't reply.  
"Hey, John" she greeted him as she made her way over, "You're the detectives I'm supposed to be working with?"  
"Yeah" he smiled at her, "Uh, this is my partner, Andy Sipowitz, Andy this is Dr. Grace O'Malley"  
"Nice to meet you" Andy said and shook her hand.  
"And you. So, they told me the little boy has stopped talking" she said and they started walking to the door again.  
"Yeah. His name is Phillip Gershwin" John told her.  
"We think he witnessed a murder" Andy informed her, "A stabbing. One of the teachers"  
"And would Phillip have been able to actually see the knife or whatever entering the body, or do you think the teacher was facing away from his position?" she inquired. She seemed both concerned and yet very proffesional, quite a turn around from the laid back woman John had met previously. This fit her too, though, and John liked that she was so proffesional at her job.  
"The body was facing away from the stall when we got there, but we still have no idea what went on" Andy told her as John rapped on the front door.  
"Here we go" John muttered as Mrs. Gershwin opened the door. 


	16. With the Help of a Doc

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: This is more like a collection of scenes from various "episodes" that make up the part of the story that's important to me. So imagine them stuck in various places in various episodes that are "really" about other things. This takes place during the school year, but kinda skips the summer. Whatever. Hope you enjoy!  
  
"Mrs. Gershwin, this is Dr. Grace O'Malley" John introduced the two women. Grace gave her that winning smile of hers and nodded politely.  
"Come in" Mrs. Gershwin stepped away from the door and they stepped in. They were in a large hallway. To their right they could see Phillip sitting on the couch, watching some cartoon on the TV.  
"Is there any chance his father can be here?" Grace asked as Mrs. Gershwin closed the front door.  
"He's on his way" she answered, "He should be here in about ten minutes"  
"Is there another room we could wait in until he gets here?" Grace had the perfect amount of condolence, concern, and proffesionalism in her voice. John expected she was very good at what she did.  
"Yes, of course" Mrs. Gershwin said and showed them to a second sitting room on the left side of the house.  
"Can I get you something to drink, Detectives, Doctor?" she asked politely.  
"Nah, I'm fine" John said, Andy shook his head.  
"I'd love a glass of water, if it's not too much trouble" Grace responded. Andy gave her a sharp look.  
"Of course, I'll be right back" Mrs. Gershwin smiled hesitantly and hurried out of the room toward the back of the house.  
"You in the habit of accepting refreshments from your paitents?" Andy asked causticlly.  
"If they ask" Grace responded....gracefully.....and took a seat on the white, patent leather couch, "It helps people to calm down if they can do something normal, or routine, like getting a guest something to drink. My job is to make people comfortable so they can work through problems"  
"And our job is to find the truth, the fastest way possible" Andy replied. Mrs. Gershwin came back in with Grace's glass of water so Grace stood up and accepted it.  
"Thank you so much, Mrs. Gershwin" she smiled warmly.  
"Uh, what should I do?" the nervous woman asked.  
"Go sit with Phillip. Let him cuddle with you if he wants, but if he doesn't don't reach for him, just sit next to him. He just needs to know you're there for him right now" Grace answered immediately and Mrs. Gershwin went off to perform her task.  
"Believe me, Detective Sipowitz, ten minutes now will make your job go much quicker, if the only information your going to get is from Phillip in there" Grace said firmly, downing half of her water and taking a seat again. Mrs. Gershwin was pretty acurate and they were joining she, Mr. Gershwin and Phillip in the living room not too long afterwards. Mr. Gershwin was a large man, broad shouldered and well muscled under his nicely tailored blue suit. He didn't seem abrasive or defensive though, just concerned about his boy.  
"Hey, Phil" he said as he walked into the room. Phillip looked up from the TV but didn't move or make a sound.  
"Uh, Phil, this is Dr. Grace" his father continued as Grace had instructed him, "She wants to talk to you okay?" Still Phillip didn't make a sound. Grace just smiled reassuringly at his parents and took a light seat on the coffee table in front of the boy's seat.  
"Phillip, can you please look at me?" she asked softly. John didn't think even he could resist that request. Phillip tore his eyes away from the TV and looked directly at her.  
"Hi" she smiled, "Listen, I know something really scary happened today, and I know you don't want to talk right now, but how about we make a deal? If I ask you yes and no questions, you don't have to talk at all, all you have to do is shake your head no, or nod your head yes. Can you do that?" Phillip looked at her, but didn't respond. He glanced up at John and Andy standing behind his father and the looked back at her.  
"John" she beckoned him over so he went and crouched next to her.  
"This is my friend Policeman John" she told Phillip, putting an arm around John's shoulder. He took a second to ignore the feeling so he could focus on what he was doing.  
"Hey, Phillip" he tried to smile in the same way that Grace was, reassuringly.  
"His job is to protect everybody who lives around here. He's very sorry that he couldn't protect Ms. Gorthrop today, but now he needs your help to find the bad person that hurt her" Grace continued talking slowly and calmly to Phillip.  
"Do you think you can help us, Phillip?" John asked. Grace looked at him as if to say "that's right". Phillip took a second, but finally nodded.  
"Do you want to talk or do you just want to use your head?" Grace asked. Phillip didn't say anything.  
"Okay" Grace sighed, "Did you see what happened in the bathroom today, Phillip?" He nodded.  
"Did you see the badperson?" John asked. He nodded again.  
"Was it a girl?" Grace questioned. Phillip shook his head.  
"So it was a boy?" Nod.  
"Did you ever see him before?" John asked. Nod. Nod? He had seen the man before?  
"Do you know who it was?" Phillip didn't respond. He looked up at his parents who were standing behind the couch. Grace sighed. She took both of her hands around both of his, startling the boy into looking back at her.  
"Phillip, I know that you're scared. You're afraid that the bad man might find you and hurt you too" He nodded, "Well that's NOT going to happen. You're Mom and Dad are here to protect you, and Policeman John is here to protect you and so are all of his police man friends, like Detective Sipowitz over there, okay? And I'm going to help you to, so nothing bad is going to happen to you. You just need to tell us if you know who the bad man was" Phillip looked at her, fear still shining out of his eyes.  
"Come on, Phil" his dad encouraged from behind him. Phillip started to nod, then shook his head.  
"Okay, you think you might know who he is. Is he man from school?" Grace asked. Shake.  
"But you saw him at school before?" Nod.  
"Did you see him talking to Ms. Gorthrop before?" Nod.  
"Was the man's name Boo Mitchum?" John asked. Phillip shrugged.  
"Do you think you could look at some pictures, and tell us if you recognize him, if you see the picture?" John asked. Nod.  
"Okay. That's good enough" Grace said. John was pretty sure he had some more questions for the boy but he look Grace gave him told him to back off.  
"You've helped a lot, okay Phillip? We can find the bad man now" she told him. His parents led them to the door. Grace gave them her card.  
"Thanks. We'll let you know what happens" Andy told them.  
"What do you think, Grace?" John asked as he walked her to her car.  
"Hard to tell. He definately recognized the name Boo, but he might've just heard the teacher say it when she was talking to the man, so he wasn't sure." she answered, "I'm probably going to be handling his counciling so I'll let you know if we come up with something else"  
"Thanks" he replied, "I'll, uh, I'll let you know what we come up with" He started to walk away to the car where Andy was waiting for him.  
"John!" she called and he turned back, "Are you going to need him to testify?" John shrugged.  
"Don't know. Maybe" he replied. She nodded slowly and then smiled.  
"Kay. Call me if you need anything else" she said and closed her car door. 


	17. The Culprit

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please?  
  
"You get anything from the kid?" Barbados asked as soon as they walked in.  
"Not much" Andy replied, disgruntled. He hadn't said much on the way back to the station and John knew he wasn't happy with the way things had gone. He had especially been flustered with the way Grace had handled things. She had a very different style.  
"Uh, we know he's a witness, but he's still not talking. Gra.....Dr. O'Malley was able to get that it was a man, that the boy had seen at school talking to the teacher before" John added.  
"No name?" Barbados questioned.  
"Uh, sorta. We got the name Boo Mitchum from the principle, guy that stopped in to see the teacher couple weeks ago. We ran it by Phillip, he didn't say nothing, but Dr. O'Malley says he recognized it."  
"Boo Mitchum?" Barbados repeated, "Get on it"  
"Yes sir" Andy answered as he took a seat at his desk.  
"Hey, we got the report from the morgue," Jones told them, "That teacher, she wasn't sick"  
"So what's that mean?" John asked.  
"That means she wouldn't have called in sick, and then come in in the morning," Metaboy said, "And that means, someone else must've called her in."  
"Where're Connie and Ortiz?"  
"They went to talk to the DOA's sister, see if she knew anyone who might do this" Barbados replied and went back into his office.  
  
Elsewhere.......  
  
"Ms. Gorthrop?"  
"Mrs. Langely now" the woman answered from behind her half opened door, "I got married a couple weeks ago"  
"Sorry." Rita apologized for her mistake, "Congratulations. But you are Greta Gorthrop's sister?"  
"Yes" Langely replied slowly, "Is there something wrong?"  
"Can we come in?" Connie asked. They were a glitzer neighborhood, a nice apartment building, almost out of their territory. The same question was running through both of their heads: what had Gorthrop been doing in their neighborhood?  
Langely sighed and finished opening the door. She stepped back and let the detectives in, though she didn't look happy about it. She was dressed to go out, maybe for a lunch appointment, in a lilac skirt suit and matching pearls. The apartment was well furnished and tastefully decorated in lilac, dark blue and white.  
"When was the last time you saw your sister?" Connie asked after glancing around quickly.  
"The day I got back from my honeymoon, last week. Thursday" Langley replied, a touch of impatience in her voice.  
"She been complaining about some guy bothering her, at all?" Rita asked, "A Boo Mitchum maybe?" Suddenly Langely's face paled and she look terrified. The arms that had been folded a minute ago dropped and she reached for, but didn't actually touch, Rita.  
"Boo Mitchum? Why? Did she make a complaint? Is Greta okay?" Rita and Connie didn't know exactly what to say.  
"You know this Boo Mitchum?" Connie pressed, instead of answering the question.  
"Arthur! Arthur!" Langley turned around and yelled instead, "Arthur!" A man came running out from down a hallway, half dressed in nice gray slacks and socks.  
"What, Gerta?" he asked, alarmed himself.  
"Boo! Boo's been after Greta again!" his wife cried and then twirled back to face the detectives.  
"He'll kill her! He will! He's crazy, I just know it! You have to protect her!"  
"Why do you think he'll kill her?" Rita asked.  
"Boo's been obsessed with Greta ever since high school" Arthur told them, "He stalked her for a while, his room was plastered with pictures of her. We tried for years to talk Greta into putting a restraining order on him, but she just wouldn't do it"  
"Old boyfriend she was still in love with?" Rita questioned.  
"Lord no" Arthur replied, "Greta was just too nice! She never could tell anyone no, or to bugger off. She kept telling him gently, you know, and he just didn't get it"  
"He's crazy! I'm telling you he'll kill her!" Gerta insterted, "God, why are you even here, investigating this? Is Greta okay?"  
"Do you know where we could maybe find this Boo?" Connie asked instead, not skipping a beat.  
"Is Greta okay?" Arthur repeated, saying each syllable slowly. Rita and Connie exchanged glances.  
"She was found this morning" Rita said, "at her school" Gerta screamed and started sobbing, falling backward into her husband.  
"She was stabbed to death" Another scream from Gerta while her husband turned her around and wrapped his arms around her.  
"Do you have any idea where we can find Boo?" Connie repeated.  
"I don't.....I don't know" Arthur told them, "There.....we saved.....he used to send......we thought, you know, evidence....."  
"Where?" Rita asked calmly.  
"Closet" Arthur replied. Connie stayed with the shocked couple as Rita went to find the closet. It was in the hall and she found a shoebox full of envelopes right away.  
"Can we take this?" she asked. Arthur nodded. Connie left them the number of a councilor and the detectives took their leave.  
"Whad j'ya find?" Andy asked as soon as they walked in with the box.  
"Boo Mitchum used to stalk Greta Gorthrop" Rita answered, plopping the box down on Connie's desk. The squad crowded around.  
"What's this?" John asked.  
"Letters. Apparently, Mitchum was quite the writer" Connie told him and pulled a stack of enevelopes out. Some were opened, some weren't. She pulled a paper out of one of the open ones. She didn't read it aloud, but rolled her eyes.  
" 'I love you, I need, I want you, I'll protect you, I'll have you'" she said "Basic obsessive compulsive stuff"  
"Look, this one has a picture in it," Rita said, handing the photo to Connie.  
"This one too" John said, as he had been flipping through the envelopes. The guy was medium size, normal brown hair, brown eyes, nothing particularly striking about him.  
"What do you have there?" Barbados said from behind them all.  
"Ah, stalker letters" Andy answered.  
"The sister and brother-in-law said this Boo Mitchum has been stalking Gorthrop ever since high school" Connie told him.  
"You run him?" Barbados asked.  
"Yeah. There's nothin on him" John answered.  
"You got an address?"  
"We've got some letters" Rita waved a couple of the envelopes, "We can check the most current return address"  
"Do it" Barbados answered and left them to do it. The entire squad sat down to go through the envelopes and post marks, trying to decipher what the most current address was.  
"I've got an '02 here" Jones said after a while.  
"February, '03!" Metaboy exclaimed, getting up and handing the envelope to Rita who had pulled a chair up to Connie's desk.  
"That's it" she said after looking it over. She and Connie got up and pulled their jackets on.  
"We'll go with you" Andy said and he and John followed them.  
They found the apartment easily enough. They were only a block from Gorthrop's listed address. Andy banged on the door. The waited a few seconds. Nothing. Andy banged again.  
"Open up, Mitchum, it's the police!" Connie yelled at the door.  
"He's not there" They all turned to see a little old lady standing in a door way down the hall.  
"He went to visit his wife" she added.  
"His wife?" Rita repeated.  
"Her name is Greta" the old woman told them, "She's a teacher at the elementary school. He left this morning and he hasn't come back yet" The four detectives exchanged a look.  
"Thanks" Andy said and they all headed back down the stairs. They were walking up the steps to the station when John spotted Grace.  
"Grace, what're you doing here?" he asked.  
"I got a call" she answered, "They said they'd found a picture of a suspect or something, and they wanted Phillip to take a look at it"  
"Who called you?" John asked as they all headed up to the second floor. Grace shrugged.  
"Some guy named Irvin" she said.  
"Good, you're back" Barbados said as they walked in, "And Dr. O'Malley, I assume?" He held a hand out to Grace.  
"Lieutenant Barbados" he introduced himself, and John noticed his slightly surprised look when Grace shook his hand with that firm grip of hers.  
"The Gershwin's are already here, in there" he pointed to one of the back rooms.  
"You have a picture for him to look at?" Grace asked.  
"Yeah, just a regular, you know, snapshot of the guy we think did it" Barbados answered. John didn't like the way he was leaning towards the Doctor. And had he held her hand just a tad bit longer than he had needed to?  
"You understand that if I think it's going to cause further trauma I will not allow him to look at this picture?" Grace responded, almost arrogantly, and very firmly. John was proud of her. And he felt like pushing the Lieutenant back a step or two.  
"Of course" Barbados replied and started to lead the way, but Grace didn't follow.  
"Um, John, Detective Sipowitz, uh...." she looked at Jones and then back at John with an inquisitive smile.  
"Jones" John supplied.  
"Detective Jones, would you three join me?" Jones and Metaboy exchanged a look.  
"Sure" Jones replied and followed them into the room. Grace put that effective smile back on her face.  
"Hello Phillip" she said. Phillip was seated on his father's lap, his mother on his right, at the table.  
"Mrs. Gershwin, Mr. Gershwin" The parents nodded. John took a seat next to Grace.  
"How are we doing?" she asked.  
"He still hasn't spoken" Mrs. Gershwin told her. Grace nodded.  
"Well, that's okay" she said as if it were no big deal, "We don't mind, do we John?" She looked at him.  
"Uh, no" he agreed, trying to smile at the boy who still looked frightened out of his wits, poor thing.  
"You remember my friends, Policeman John, and Detective Sipowitz, don't you? And this is Policeman Jones" she nodded toward Jones. Phillip nodded.  
"Good. Now, Phillip, we need you to do one more thing for us, okay? We have this picture" Barbados had given her the picture and she had it sitting upside down on the table in front of her, "Now, we think the man in this picture is the Bad-man, but we aren't sure. We wondered if maybe you could look at this picture and tell us if it's the same Bad-man you saw" Phillip didn't answer. His eyes got a little bigger and he looked up at his dad, then over at his mom. Grace leaned over and whispered something in John's ear.  
"You don't have to, Phillip" he said, as instructed, "We don't want you to if it scares you too much. But if you can, it would help us a lot" He hoped that had come out right. Phillip just blinked at them. Grace seemed to see something there that the other's didn't though.  
"Look, Phillip" she pulled Jone's forward by his wrist, "You see these Policemen? And your Dad? They're big, strong men, and they know how to protect you really good. No. One. Is. Going. To. Hurt. You." she said each word by itself, "No one. All you have to do is look at this picture for just a second, and nod if it's the Badman, shake your head if it's not. Can you do that?" They all held their breath while they waited for his answer. Finally, he nodded. Grace nodded and slid the picture across the table slowly. Phillip didn't reach for it. Grace made eye contact with his father and nodded, so the man lifted the picture, so his son could see the face on it. Phillip immediately started nodding vigorously. His father slammed the picture back on the table.  
"Okay" John said, standing up, "We'll go put him in jail then" He nodded at Sipowitz and Jones and they followed him out, leaving Grace to help the obviously distraught little boy.  
"Well?" Barabdos asked.  
"It's him" Andy said.  
"Detectives?" Irvin said, haning up his phone, "The ER just admitted a man with multiple stab wounds, screaming 'I killed her, I killed her" he reported.  
"That's him!" Andy said and the six detectives headed off to the hospital. 


	18. Orange Noodle Syndrome

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: Sorry I haven't posted in a while! From this point, things kind of get away from Rosalind because John pursues Grace. If the child's not mentioned in a chapter or two.well. Enjoy!  
  
"Uh.. hey, this John Clark"  
"Hey! Oh, what's wrong? Do you need something?" Grace asked immediately, though John was glad to realize her initial reaction had been a happy one.  
"Well, we got the guy" John said, "I...uh...actually, have another problem"  
"Oh" Grace sounded surprised.  
"Yeah..it's, uh." Geeze, he was going to sound cheesy beyond belief, "It's Ros. She really does have a mac and cheese problem, I thought maybe, if you came over for dinner, you might be able to cure her of that" He closed his eyes and hoped he hadn't sounded to desperate. Rosalind had been living with him, what, six months? Had he forgotten how to speak to women in that short amount of time? Possible, he admitted to himself. Fathers were often rusty.  
"Hmm...well I don't usually do field work" Grace was saying, and he could hear the laughter in her voice. Oh thank God!  
"But, I think Ros might need a little extra attention. So, what time do you usually have dinner?" John glanced at his watch. Could he have dinner ready in half an hour? Why had he decided to make chicken alfredo tonight?  
"Oh, about 7:30" he answered.  
"I could be there in half an hour" Grace said, "If you don't mind what I wear"  
"I'm pretty sure there's nothing you could wear that you'd look bad in" John replied, "I'll see you in half an hour then?"  
"Sure" Grace answered and he heard the phone click. It was true, John didn't think that particular woman would look bad in anything. Not even a sack cloth bag! She'd been wearing black pin striped pants and a lavender top that had cut down just far enough to let the imagination work earlier today. He knew from their other couple of encounters she looked great in a t-shirt and jeans too though. John shook himself before he could start wondering what she would look like without those clothes on. Six months was a long time, he suddenly decided.  
"Daddy! What's this word?" John had been slightly surprised when Rosalind's very surprised first grade teacher told him that she could read on about a third grader's level. Her mother must've taught her. When her aunt, Lieutenant Rodriguez's sister Maria, had found out, she'd started taking the girl (as well as her own children) to the library every other day to get books. John was glad she did because he certainly didn't have time to do it. Sometimes he felt like he barely had time to talk to Rosalind!  
"Sound it out" he ordered her. She was sitting on the couch with a rather large book propped up in her hands.  
"Ra.ra.mon." She drug each syllable out. John furrowed his brow and left his chicken to simmer. He crossed the room to his daughter and she held the book up to him.  
"Ramona. It's a name, Ros" he told her. He handed it back to her and suddenly stopped. Something had struck him. He was looking down at her small face, with her huge brown eyes and silky brown hair that tangled in seconds, and she was looking up at him with a little smile curling her little lips and he saw it. There was a look of complete and utter trust in her eyes. Trust in him. It hit him like a ton of bricks and he almost staggered under the enormity of the realization. No one had ever put their life in his hands, trusted him to make sure they ate, and dressed and learned and slept and loved and cried and made it in the world. He felt flushed with a great responsibility, a staggering one in fact and he worried, again, about how he would do. And then, too, with that responsibility, came a great feeling of privilege. He was a father. He would have the joys (and pains too, he knew) of watching a human life grow and form and he would have a hand in what it became. He had the opportunity to make the world a better place.  
All of this hit him in just a few seconds and he couldn't consciously comprehend it all, or take it all in, but he knew something in him, again, had changed, and this time for the better. He smiled down at Ros and dropped a kiss on the top of her head as she lowered her eyes back to her book. He took a deep breath and went on with life.  
Grace was right on time, not surprising him in the least. He'd re- combed Rosalind's hair back into a pony tail and had the table set already when he opened the door. Grace's hair lay wild down her back and she wore a fifties style black dress, cut low in the front with a fat black ribbon right under her bosom, the skirt flaring out to her knees, and a little pair of strappy black heels. John felt like a fish, his mouth working but no sound coming out. A light speckling of freckles covered her pale shoulders, and he wondered what they would taste like......  
"Uh, hi" he said, and moved back so she could come in. She looked like a shining debutante millionaire heiress in his shabby little apartment. And he felt like a grungy nerf-herder in his worn jeans and plain gray t-shirt.  
"Sorry" she smiled apologetically, "I have this thing with a couple of my brothers"  
"Oh" John said, disappointment filling his chest, "Oh, that's okay"  
"I can only stay till about 9, or I'll be late" she added.  
"Oh" John replied, much more happily this time, "That's cool. Dinner's ready now, if you want to eat"  
"That sounds good" she rubbed her stomach. John clenched his teeth.  
"Hi" Rosalind distracted him, thankfully, and he could draw breath again.  
"Hello, Rosalind" Grace crouched down, giving John a lovely view of the cavity between her breasts, "What're you reading?"  
"Ramona" the little girl answered, showing their guest the cover of the book.  
"You can read this by yourself?" Grace asked. Rosalind nodded.  
"Wow, that's pretty cool" Grace sounded appropriately impressed. She had a great effect on Rosalind, who usually hid behind John whenever other people were around. It was probably all of that smiling she did. John didn't imagine he smiled often enough.  
"C'mon, before the food gets cold" he said and pulled a chair out for Grace. She had to smooth her skirt out before sitting and John had to roll his eyes at himself.  
"These aren't orange noodles" Rosalind immediately noted when John spooned the already cut alfredo onto her plate.  
"You know" Grace said as if she were hardly paying attention at all, "I've heard that people who eat too much orange noodles turn orange" John knew he couldn't laugh so he tried desperately to keep a straight face as Rosalind's eyes enlarged, believing every word of the fib.  
"What about red noodles?" she asked. John took a seat and gave Grace a sheepish look.  
"We eat a lot of pasta" he admitted. Grace laughed. Angels sang.  
"My family eats a lot of potatoes" she told him, with a roll of her eyes and a shrug, "We're Irish"  
"What about red noodles?" Rosalind demanded again.  
"No, I think it's only orange noodles" the doctor answered with a sly smile. What was going on here? What kind of feelings were these? They weren't the kind John was used to having with women. The rushes of lust, yeah, those were normal. But, then, why the urgent need to keep them away from her? He wanted her, yes, but at the same time felt he was no where near the kind of man that should lay a single finger on her pristine person. Maybe it was because she wasn't like the other women he'd dated. She was somehow more..pure. Or, maybe it was innocent? Maybe just good. Either way, she wasn't the kind of woman you dated for a couple weeks then got into bed with. He had a feeling she was one of the "wait until your married" types. In other words, not his type. At least, not until now. Had Rosalind changed all that? Good Lord, was he domesticating?! Who was this really all about; him, Grace, or Rosalind? John felt himself getting very confused and decided to abandon that line of thought.  
But the whole night went like that. After dinner, Rosalind had abandoned the table to continue reading her book so Grace had offered to help with the dishes. He'd first felt obliged to lend her a shirt to put over her dress so it wouldn't get ruined,(and he liked the sight of her in his shirt) and then he'd been forced to stand next to her, elbows and hips bumping in the tiny kitchen, her skirts brushing his calves, and her scent nearly choking him with every breath, though he continued to take the deepest breaths he could get. He was getting warm and he couldn't decide if it was hot in the apartment or if it was just him. But Grace's skin was glistening with the faint shimmer of a thin layer of sweat too. Funny how sweat could make a woman shimmer and look more like a goddess instead of making her look dirty or grimy.  
John smiled at her. She was talking but he had no idea what she was saying.  
"Oh, shoot!" she suddenly cried, a look of alarm on her face.  
"What?" John asked, afraid she'd gotten dirty dish water all over herself. But she was dry and unbuttoning the shirt he'd lent her. He suddenly found himself anticipating that last button, and mentally slapped himself for being disappointed when it only revealed the black dress again.  
  
"I'm going to be late!" she replied. John glanced at the clock. 8:59.  
"Geeze, I didn't realize it had gotten so late" he said. It felt like she'd only been there a few minutes. Hardly long enough. He walked her to the door.  
"Ros, Grace is leaving" Rosalind was asleep on the couch, her book fallen to the floor.  
"Oops" he said and Grace laughed a little.  
"Don't worry" she said with one of those smiles, "It doesn't make you a bad father" She kind of stood there in the hall, looking at him and he kind of stood there, in his doorway looking at her.  
"Well, uh, maybe we could go out sometime, maybe, just you and me next time?" he finally choked out. She nodded.  
"Yeah, that sounds good" she said, but she didn't move. She was getting closer though, and John noticed her eyes were fluttering. He didn't realize what he was doing until his tasted her lips beneath his. It was just a little kiss, but it sent bolts of lightning through his lips, down through his chest and arms and legs and zipping around in his head. She pulled away and gave him a little smile, a new one, shy and a little guilty, but secretly enthralled.  
"Call me" she said and he watched her skirts swish as she walked away.  
  
AN: May I prevail upon your thoughts? Do you think we should a) end this particular "book" here, and write a new one which is the courtship of John and Grace, or should we just finish the story as is, making "Rosalind" a bit longer? Let me know, and then I'll post more chapters, or, a new story! 


	19. First Date Jitters

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: Thanks for the response! Here's "Rosalind: Part Two; Grace"  
  
"Hey, Andy, do you think maybe you and Connie could take Rosalind tonight, for a little while?"  
"Yeah, what's up?"  
"I, uh, I've got a date" John admitted. He said it quietly so no one else would hear. He felt like a teenager and he didn't know why.  
"Nervous?" Andy asked, giving him a strange look. John rubbed his hand over his head. Was he nervous about going out with Grace? Yep, that's what it was. Damn!  
"Ah, maybe a little" he said.  
"Must really like this girl" Andy said but didn't make any more mention of it until later when John dropped Rosalind off at their apartment. Connie smiled as she opened the door, Theo standing just behind her.  
"Hi, Rosalind" she said, "You wanna come in?" John pushed the girl in and followed her. He dropped her bag off on the couch along with her rag doll.  
"Go on, go play with Theo" he instructed when she was reluctant to let go of his hand. She gave him a look as if to say "yeah, right".  
"Ros, I'll be back a little later okay? Just have fun, play with Theo"  
"Come on, Rosalind" Theo urged her. So finally she let go of John's hand and followed him off into his bedroom. John rolled his eyes.  
"Don't worry" Connie said, "She'll be fine"  
"Yeah. But will I?" John replied, "Uh, I put her pajamas in there, just in case you know. And her doll's here too"  
"Hey, you look spiffy" Andy said, coming in from behind them. He carried a pizza and a bottle of Coke. Grace had objected to anything "fancy" saying she couldn't stand the food, so they were just going for a movie and then probably to Grey's Pupya, which was a walk, but they were the best hot dogs in the whole country. So he was dressed appropriately in jeans.  
"Yeah" he replied, "Thanks, you guys, for watching her"  
"No problem" Andy said, "Have a nice time"  
"Yeah" John said and closed the door behind him. He drove back to his own neighborhood to pick Grace up. He had to buzz to get the door to open, then took the elevator up to the fifth floor. It was a nice elevator. He knocked on the door, number 514. Grace opened it, hopping on one foot while she slipped a shoe onto the other. She had left her hair down again, and it fell almost to her waist, even with the curls.  
"Hey" she said and gave him a smile as she put her foot back on the floor. She was wearing a turquoise skirt that flared out just like the dress she'd worn the other day, and a white blouse that clung in all the right places, God help him.  
"Hey" he replied, "Ready?"  
"Yeah" she answered and closed the door behind herself. John took a deep breath and made his heart slow down. There was nothing to be worried about. It was just a woman.  
But no. It wasn't just a woman. It was Grace O'Malley. Red haired, smiling, gets Rosalind to talk Grace.  
"So, what do you want to see?" he asked as he opened the door for her.  
"Oh, anything. I love the movies" she replied and flashed another of those smiles through the car window. As John walked back to his side of the car he had one thought in his head: This was going to be exquisitely painful. 


	20. Chit Chat

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
"So, how did you become a child psyche analyst?" John asked, putting his slice of pizza down. Grey's had been too far, apparently.  
"Mmm" Grace swiped at some sauce that was dripping down her chin and chomped on her lastest bite of the sixth piece of pizza she'd drawn from the box. She had insisted John get a large, even though it was just for the two of them, and he now knew why. She kept eating, and eating, and eating! John thought it was funny.  
"Well, when I was in high school I babysat a lot, and I took a lot of psychology classes. My high school had this deal with a college that was close by, you know so some high school students could take college classes. Anyway, it just sort of happened" More pizza. John had had four himself, and was just about stuffed. He put his elbows on the table to study her face a little more while she spoke. She had a little dimple in her right cheek, right next to her lips. The frekles spatter across her nose high lighted the streaks of gold in her eyes, and the orange/red of her hair accentuated the green. He thought he could probably watch her eat for days.  
  
"Actually, it was my brother who got me the job. He's a social worker, and the man who owned the practice I'm with, Scott Connely, was looking for someone new. He asked my brother if he knew anyone good and Andrew goes 'As it happens, I just may'. I had just graduated college and Scott was a little wary but he took me, I've always thought just as kind of a favor to my brother, but I suppose he turned out to fairly happy with me cause he never did fire me" She smiled up at him and shrugged.  
"He died last year and left me half the practice" she admitted, taking a last bite of her pizza.  
"Wow" John replied, "You must be good"  
"Oh, I suppose. It was either be a psychologist like Deanna Troi from Star Trek, or write for Star Trek" she laughed.  
"Are you a Trekkie?" John teased, wondering why people thought Trekkie's were so weird. So what if they were adults that dressed up and went to conventions with a bunch of other adults all dressed up as characters from a TV show? Okay, so that was weird.  
"No!" Grace denied, "I just have a thing for sci-fi. And I love to write. Look, I was fourteen when I came up with the idea, all right?" John did some quick math. He had been too polite to ask how old she was, but he had wondered. He knew she had to be younger than he was, at least by five years. But his figures led to another conclusion, one he didn't think he liked.  
"Fourteen?" He repeated. When had that Star Trek show been on? Early ninties. At least a good ten years ago. Fourteen and ten was......  
"How old are you?" he tried to sound like he was just suddenly asking out of the blue.  
"Twenty four" she answered, sipping from her soda. Twenty four? Twenty four! Lord, he was a good ten years older than her!  
"Uh-oh" she said, " I know that look"  
"What look?"  
"The 'she's just a kid!' look" Grace explained, "I may only be twenty four, but that's just my age, it's not how old I am" John had to stop and think about what she'd just said. Then he laughed.  
"That actually made sense!" They both laughed. John shook himself. Maybe it didn't matter how much older than her he was. She was a nice woman. No, make that a great woman! So she was ten years younger than him, big deal. He'd always kind of liked younger women anyway. And she certainly wasn't childish. She was an adult, and that was all that mattered.  
"Of course it made sense" Grace said indignantly, though she was just playing around, "I said it didn't I?" John laughed. She had a great sense of humor. Another something different about her than most of the other women he'd dated. Why did he keep comparing her to other women he'd seen? He supposed it was just because she was so.well, different. New, fresh, and yes darn it, exciting.  
"Would you like a refill?" a waiter who had suddenly appeared from nowhere next to the table asked. John went to say yes and caught sight of the man's watch.  
"Ah, geeze!" he exclaimed, "It's almost midnight! I have to go get Ros" She'd probably be all upset too. Darn it, why hadn't he been paying attention to the clock? Oh, that's right. The reason was sitting across the table. It was green and red and honey speckled ivory. And it's name was Grace O'Malley.  
"For heaven's sake!" she added, pulling her light sweater on as she got up, "The poor thing will probably be all upset! Look, you go on, I'll get a cab" She insisted when they got outside.  
"Oh, no, I'll take you home first" John objected quickly. Just a few more minutes with her would be worth the pout he'd probably get from Ros, and maybe more in the morning.  
"Are you sure?" Grace asked, tilting her head a bit.  
"Yeah, she's probably asleep anyway" John assured her as he opened the door and she took a seat. The ride home was quiet, his thoughts mostly focused on Rosalind and what was going to transpire when he got to Andy and Connie's place. Hopefully she'd been asleep for hours and wouldn't realize how late it was and how long he'd been gone. And hopefully her babysitters wouldn't be so mad at him for being so late they would never watch her again!  
He forgot all about that in the elevator up to Grace's apartment though. In the small in closed space, her scent filled the air and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms, crush her against his chest and kiss her savagely. He was lucky when the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened, her door to salvation just s few feet away. He walked her to it and watched as she pushed the key into the lock and turned it. She opened the door and then turned around.  
"Sorry I kept you out so long" she apologized, but not really convincingly, "If Ros gives you a hard time just tell her it's my fault. But" she looked down then up again, "I had a really nice time, John. Better than I've had in....a long time" He wondered what the comment might mean, but he couldn't think about it now.  
"Yeah, me too" he replied, and meant it. This time it was she to stand on her toes and push their lips together. He kissed her back, and suddenly it wasn't the good night kiss it had started out as. One of her lovely arms was around his neck and the other was pressed between their bodies, her fingers splayed across his chest. One of his arms was holding her around her back, the other ran the tips of his fingers through the roots of her hair just above her ear. He paid attention to her responses, making sure she wasn't pulling away or slacking, but she was pressing just as hard as he was. He could feel her chest heaving up and down as she had to keep pushing herself back up on her toes to reach him so he bent himself down a little more for her comfort. As the kiss naturally drew to an end, John's head was reeling. Her kiss was intoxicating. He felt dizzy, but that might've been from the lack of oxygen.  
"Night" she whispered, her mouth still only millimeters from his so he could feel the breaths she was pulling in and blowing out. He had to force himself to let her go.  
"Night" he finally managed to get out just as she closed the door. He turned back to the elevator and rolled his eyes at himself. What had he gotten himself into? 


	21. Holding Hands

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
John sat across the table, wiping a tear from his eye. He had been laughing so hard his sides hurt and he was sure he had stopped breathing for a good five minutes. Grace had been doing an, exaggerated he was sure, impression of her parents arguing about how to make some potatoe soup.  
"Do they really sound like that?" he asked. He'd been seeing her for about a month now. Sometimes she came to the apartment for dinner and she usually ended up playing dolls with Rosalind or helping her read more than talking to John but he didn't mind it so much. Maria had commented that she thought the female influence was good for the little girl, even though she hadn't met Grace yet.  
"Yeah. They're from Ireland, you know, first gen immigrants. They're not your average Irish couple though" she explained with a softer smile, "They really hardly ever fight, except when they aren't really serious. Neither one of them really has a bad temper"  
"You're right, that is odd for anyone Irish" John chuckled.  
"Well you'd never know it by my second oldest brother, Paul. He has a mercury temper. Easily ignited, but easily cooled too" She rolled her eyes and let a little puff of air escape her lips, another kind of laugh of hers he'd discovered. Their check came and he paid it and then they started home. It was a beautiful autumn night, the stars shining brightly above and a slight wind shaking the colored leaves that were still hanging onto the trees. They had walked to the small Italian restaurant, just a few blocks from their respective apartment buildings. Grace was wearing a strange outfit: the shirt was skin tight and came all the way up to her throat in the front, but plunged in a "v" all the way down her back and a calf length skirt. He could see the bumbs raising on her skin as the breeze swept down on them.  
"Here" he said, taking is jacket off and wrapping it around her shoulders.  
"Well, aren't you the silver screen gentleman" she replied wryly. She said things like that all the time. And he'd discovered she was the ultimate romantic. She loved old black and white movies, especially with Gregory Peck or Cary Grant. "Sabrina" was one of her favorites.  
"Well, I try" he replied with a smile, "You said your brother's were helping pay for your apartment, didn't you?" he asked as they walked. Grace rolled her eyes. Her hair was coifed into a wild sort of French twist, but wisps kept falling in face and tangling in the long earrings she was wearing. John wondered how she got it all up on her head but figured it was one of those mysteries that made women worth wondering about.  
"Yes" she confirmed, "They were convinced my last place was detrimental to my health"  
"Just how many brothers do you have?" he asked. He'd been wondering the past couple weeks, ever since she had said something to the effect of "a bunch of my brothers". The idea of a "bunch" indicated she had more than one.  
"Too many!" she laughed, and the comment piqued something of the cop in John. She hadn't really answered the question. But he didn't want to press the point.  
"Oh, look!" she stopped and pointed up at the sky, "The moon is full" He glanced up but was more drawn to her face. She was looking up wistfully, romantically, dreamily. He was almost convinced she was reminiscing about some trip she'd taken up to the lifeless hunk of rock. She had a delicate, private little smile on her lips and those eyes of hers were sparkling.  
"I love the moon" she said finally, "I love the night" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she laughed and looked at him as she started walking again.  
"I'm a pathetic romantic!" she announced and slipped her hand into his. Why this small action made him feel closer to her than any of their kisses, light and electrifying, he didn't know. He supposed he hadn't held a girl's hand since jr. high. It had a kind of innocence, which was sweet, but that wasn't all. New parents held hands. Old couples that had been married fifty years held hands. John decided it was a symbol of the kind of relationship he'd never had before, a stable, permanent one.  
He sucked in a breath. Permanent. That was supposed to be a terrifying idea, being chained down, trapped in a cell. (Which he knew from experience that he did NOT like) But the sudden thought didn't scare him, at least, not when he was thinking about Grace at the same time. Permanent with Grace was more.....right, good, secure, beautiful, fun, healthy........than anything else.  
A lifetime flashed through John's head, too fast for him to catch. Smiles, laughter, Rosalind's happy face, Grace cooking at a stove in some big kitchen with white walls and blue counter tops, a Christmas tree in front of a fire with Rosalind curled up on a rug and Grace handing him a cup of hot cocoa, Grace crying as Ros went off on her first date, family photographs, Ros in a white dress and on his arm, Grace's hair fading and turning white as she chased three little grandchildren around a big backyard somewhere. He could do that. He could do that.  
He smiled at her and kept ahold of her hand.  
  
AN: Sorry it's so sappy, but I really am a pathetic romantic! 


	22. Rosalind's Birthday Party

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
"Ros, where did you put the candles?" John called. He'd looked in all of the cupboards she could reach, he'd opened all the drawers, he'd even checked the trash. They were nowhere to be found. The cake sat on the counter, a blue and white confection, with Veggie Tales characters painted on, that read "Happy Birthday Rosalind!". It had cost him 26 bucks, and he thought it should come with some kind of money back guarantee. "The best cake you'll ever eat or your money back" sounded good. And for 26 bucks it better be the best cake he'd ever eaten!  
He had gotten some purple streamers to hang and a couple of green balloons made the apartment a little more festive. Grace had informed him two weeks ago that sixth birthdays were a big deal, right along with 10, thirteen, sixteen, eighteen and finally twenty one. John didn't want to think that far in advance. He was just glad he didn't have another "major" birthday coming up for another four years. His father had never thrown him a birthday party, which he didn't find surprising in the least. Well, his father hadn't done a lot of things. At any rate, John had arranged for a small party for Ros's sixth birthday. It was a school night, but he figured she could handle one night of staying up later than nine.  
"Ros, the candles?" he asked again. She must've taken them, or else where were they? He'd set them on the counter by the cake, which now seemed like a stupid idea, but it was done.  
"What candles?" Ros asked from the bathroom where she had insisted she could do her own hair. He envisioned a trip to the barbers where the mothers would all look at him with disdain as the hairdresser attempted to cut a rubber band out of his daughters fine hair without giving her a bald spot, with his luck, unsuccessfully.  
"The ones that were on the counter by the cake!" he replied.  
"You mean the crayons?" Crayons? Oh no. Candles were made of wax. Candles were pretty colors. Ros had a thing for coloring. Anything. Anywhere. What would candle wax stick to? Paper? He doubted it. The walls?  
"Oh no!" John said under his breath as he quickly made his way to the bedroom where Ros had just spent an hour, playing with her doll he had assumed. Sure enough, bright streaks of pink, blue and yellow were smeared across the one wall that was not hidden behind a dresser or bed, to the right of the window.  
"Rosalind!" he cried, not really terribly angry, kids did that sort of thing he knew, but frustrated none the less.  
"Daddy?" He turned around, ready to scold, and had to choke back a laugh, and a sob. Everyone was supposed to be here in ten minutes, he had no candles (or rather, not in candle form anyway) and now this. Her hair was almost as bad as he'd expected, part of it tangled in a pony tail holder, part of it hanging down her back, and part of it sticking straight out. She was wearing her blue jeans with the flowers at the bottom under her green jumper with a neon pink shirt.  
"John?" the muffled voice came from behind the front door. He went to open it and breathed a sigh of relief to find Grace behind it.  
"Hey" he said as he closed the door again.  
"You look beat" she said, putting a kiss on his cheek while handing him the wrapped gift she'd brought for Ros. Just then Ros followed her father out.  
"Grace!" she exclaimed happily and ran to give the woman a hug.  
"Well don't you look lovely?" Grace replied, giving John a laughing smile. Rosalind actually liked Grace, which was great. There were four other adults she would talk to: Connie, Andy, her Aunt Maria and her teacher. That was it. If it was anyone else, she still hid behind his legs. He hadn't been able to break her of it. Grace had told him not to worry, it was perfectly normal for a girl her age to be shy of strangers, and, in fact, in this city it might just well be a blessing. John had to agree there. Grace had never asked how John had come to have a daughter and he'd never told her. They'd been seeing each other almost going on five months (really, that long? It seemed like days) and he suddenly thought it might be a good idea to tell her that story. Couldn't hurt anyway.  
"Grace, come see my picture!" Rosalind cried, dragging the red head into the bedroom to show her the candle drawing. Grace laughed as her eyes lighted upon it.  
"Crayons?" she asked John, who was looking perplexed.  
"Candles" he answered. Grace laughed again. She put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him lightly, then pushed past him to her purse.  
"Here" she said, handing him the keys to her apartment, "In the kitchen, the second cupboard to the right of the stove, second shelf, I think I have some birthday candles" She nodded at Ros, "I'll take care of her hair" John sighed, thankful she only lived across the street, and grabbed his coat to trudge through the newly fallen snow. It was early November, the fourteenth to be exact, and there was already four inches of snow on the ground. It didn't bode well for the winter still not even really started. He kissed the top of her head as he headed out.  
"You're an angel" he declared and could hear her laugh. He got back just in enough time to take his coat off before answering the door for Connie, Andy and Theo. They had Michelle with them too.  
"Hey!" he said and let them in.  
"Ros! Theo's here!" he called and was gratified when Rosalind came running out, her hair combed out and in pig tails, though she still wore her oddly mismatched outfit. Oh well. He had told her she could wear whatever she wanted.  
"Hi, Rosalind" Connie greeted her.  
"Happy Birthday!" Theo exclaimed.  
"Hi!" Ros replied happily, "Come on, Theo, come see what my granma and granpa gave me!"  
"The Rodriguez's" John explained as the children disappeared to the back room. Just then Grace emerged from the bathroom.  
"Uh, Connie, this is Grace O'Malley" he introduced them, "Andy, you remember her?"  
"Yeah, it's nice to see you again"  
"Hi" Connie added, "It's nice to finally meet you"  
"Is this your daughter?" Grace asked, pulling the blankets back from the slumbering child's face. She was almost a year old now, wasn't she? Or maybe she was a year old. John wasn't sure.  
"Yeah, this is Michelle" Connie answered.  
"Oh, she's so cute!" Grace exclaimed and the two women moved farther into the room to coo over the little girl.  
"Andy, you want a soda?" John asked his friend as he opened the fridge and pulled a coke out for himself.  
"Yeah, sure" Andy replied and John gave him a can just as the door bell rang again. This time it was Maria and her oldest, Anita, who was thirteen John was pretty sure. More introductions ensued and then they lit the candles on the cake and sang happy birthday. Ros blew them all out on the first try and them commenced the important part of the party, opening the presents. She got a box of Legos from Theo, apparently her favorite toy when she was at his house, two cheapo Barbie dolls from her aunt and cousin (the kind John wouldn't be too worried about when his daughter ended up cutting their hair and ripping the heads off of, which was destined to happen eventually, intentionally or by accident) and a big pad of paper and WASHABLE markers from Grace. The rest of the night proceeded without incident and they had Rosalind in bed by nine thirty. Grace had stayed to help clean up and now they sat together on the couch, finishing off the last piece of cake, the head of a little asparagus with a red baseball cap.  
  
"So, Maria is Rosalind's father's sister, right?" Grace asked, popping a bite in her mouth. John nodded.  
"He was my Lieutenant. He died, a little less than a year ago" he answered.  
"Oh. Sorry." John shrugged.  
"He was shot by another cop. He was in the hospital when Ros showed up, with this old lady........." He told her the whole story, while she devoured the cake, and he felt somehow more at peace with it all when he was done. She fed him the last bite of cake, heaped with frosting.  
"You are a kind man, John Clark" she told him, looking into his eyes. She raised a finger and wiped a bit of frosting off his lip then sucked it off her finger. She curved her lips and trailed her finger around his lips again, then kissed him. And he felt like a kind man. 


	23. Turning Into a Family

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please? AN: Didn't know if anyone noticed, that John is the only one who calls her Ros? It's a subtlety I wondered if anyone had picked up on.  
  
Rosalind sighed with frustration. Reading, writing, social studies, those things were easy for her and she was good at them. Math, that she didn't understand. John thought it was a little cruel to give first graders homework, but Grace disagreed.  
"If they pick up good habits now, it won't be so hard for them later" she had said. So she was the one sitting at the table with the six year old who was desperately trying to subtract four from nine.  
"Rosalind, look, if you have nine skittles" Grace picked out nine skittles, "And then I eat four of them" she took four away, "Then how many skittles do you have left?" Rosalind took her time counting the left over skittles, just to make sure. She was a bit methodical.  
"Five" she finally announced.  
"That's right!" Grace said in an "applauding" tone, "You can eat one. You can have one every time you get a question right" she told the little girl who looked happy about that proposition.  
"Hey, how many questions do you have, Ros?" John demanded. Rosalind took a second.  
"Fifteen" she answered, looking around the wall at him in the kitchen.  
"You're going to ruin your dinner with fifteen skittles!" he replied, though he wasn't really serious.  
"It's a Backwards Dinner" Grace told him matter of factly.  
"A what?"  
"A Backwards Dinner. It's when you eat your desert before you eat your dinner!" she laughed at his funny look, "We used to do it on summer and christmas breaks, sometimes. That's what we're doing now, isn't it Rosalind?"  
"Yeah, Daddy, it's a backwards dinner!" Rosalind informed him.  
"All right" he said. Grace was much better with the math homework than he was. He was fine with the subjects she was good at, he didn't really need to do anything because she usually got everything right. But trying to explain a concept that she just didn't get, that was hard. Grace was coming over almost every night now, sometimes she even stayed until after Ros had gone to bed. Six months now, half a year. Tomorrow would be there "anniversary". John was surprised to find he was happy, even though they never "took the relationship a step farther", right into the bedroom. He took her out on the weekends, and she came over to spend time with him and Rosalind during the week. He liked the scenes he saw in his head, they looked like a family. A family was not something he was used to, never having had one himself. He had never really contemplated the need, or want, for one either. But now he did. And he started playing with the idea of taking their relationship a step further: into a jewelry store. But he was holding off. He wasn't absolutely positive yet. He hadn't even met her family! She talked about her brothers often enough, though she never mentioned names or gave away how many she had. John was a little suspicious. Could she be hiding something? But why?  
It didn't matter. He was fairly positive he was insanely deep in love with her. He had yet to tell her, of course. When did you make such a proclamation? He supposed he would recognize the perfect moment when it came along.  
Rosalind got her homework finished, got her dinner eaten, her bath taken and a story read to her, with John and Grace doing the various parts, and was in bed by nine. He thought maybe she should get to bed earlier, she was only six, but if she went to bed at 8:30 he'd barely have an hour and a half with her after he got her home from Maria's every night.  
"Hey, you want to have lunch tomorrow?" Grace asked as she gathered her coat and pulled her gloves on for the frigid dash across the street to her own building, "I don't have any appointments until 3:30!"  
"Yeah, that sounds good" John replied.  
"Kay, I'll come to the station" she added.  
"All right" he agreed, and stopped her to give her a kiss, "I'll see you tomorrow" She smiled and dashed down the hall.  
  
The next day......  
  
"So now you think it was Danner?" Barbados questioned.  
"Had to be, Boss" John said as the phone rang.  
"Get him in here" Barbados ordered.  
"Um, Detective Clark?" John turned his head. Irving was holding the phone.  
"It's Rosalind's school" he informed him. Andy nodded at him.  
"I'll go get the car" he told him so John reached for the phone.  
"Yeah, this is Clark"  
"Hi, Mr. Clark, this is Mrs. Rinefield from the office. I'm afraid Rosalind's not feeling so well, she threw up a few minutes ago"  
"Shoot" John said under his breath, "All right, I'll call her aunt. She'll be there in a few minutes" He hung the phone up and grabbed his coat.  
"Irving, can you call the Lieu's sister, tell her Ros is sick and she needs to go get her from school?"  
"Sure, Detective" Irving replied and reached for his own phone. John thought the matter taken care of, and planned to pick up a new movie on the way home, while he was out taking care of the case with Andy. He was proved wrong, however, when they got back to the station.  
"Detective Clark? I couldn't get a hold of Mrs. Fointez" Irving said as they walked in, pushing their suspect in front of them.  
"Shit" John muttered so no one could hear him. He looked at his watch. It was almost twelve-thirty, almost forty-five minutes after the school had called. What was he going to do? He couldn't go get her himself.  
  
"John!" he turned around at the sound of Grace's voice. She looked great, wearing an emerald green top and blue jeans, with her hair held back in a clip, but escaping it. As always when he saw her, he felt a little flutter in his heart, and another a little lower.  
"Grace!" he suddenly thought, "I can't come to lunch, but could you do me a favor?"  
"Sure" John nodded at Andy and his partner took the suspect into a back room.  
"Ros got sick at school and I can't get a hold of Maria, can you pick her up? I'll try Maria again and she can come get her before you have to be to work"  
"Yeah, sure, of course" Grace nodded, "I'll take her back to my place, but will they let me take her?"  
"Oh. I'll call them" he assured her.  
"Okay. I'll....see you tonight?" she asked, squeezing his hand hopefully.  
"Yeah" he answered and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before she left. He grabbed his phone and dialed quickly, knowing he had to get back to help Andy, even though Jones was back there right now.  
"Yeah, this is John Clark, Rosalind Rodriguez's dad?" he said as soon as the receptionist had picked up, "I'm sorry it's been so long, I couldn't get a hold of her aunt so Grace is coming" he said quickly not thinking about what he was saying.  
"And who is Grace, sir?" He didn't have time!!!  
"Uh, my wife"  
  
Elsewhere.......  
  
Grace's shoes echoed as she walked down the deserted halls to the office, the sign for which she could see at the end of the hall. The school looked a little older, but well kept. She could hear piano music and bad singing coming from somewhere to her right, down another hallway, and she could see children outside through some double doors on her left. She walked into the office, which had no door, and saw a middle aged woman behind the counter.  
"Hi" she said, "I'm here for Rosalind Rodriguez?" she said, putting her purse up on the counter. Would they want her ID?  
"Oh, yes, you must be Mrs. Clark" the woman smiled politely. Grace tried to control her shocked expression. Where in the world had the woman gotten that idea?! Not that she was adverse to the idea (Grace Clark had a nice ring) but it was a bit premature. She hadn't even worked the gumption up to take John home yet, and he had as yet to declare anything stronger than his extremely potent kisses. Which were nice but hardly something to base a marriage on. She was a psychologist, after all.  
"You're husband said you had red hair!" the woman laughed, "And so you do! My, my! A mismatched family if ever, huh?" she babbled on like Grace's Aunt Mary, "Well, I'll just get Rosalind" She ducked into a side room while Grace's head was still reeling and reemerged with the poor little girl who was hugging her doll and looked as if she had been crying.  
"Oh, honey!" Grace immediately forgot all about the "Mrs. Clark" comment as she kneeled down to throw her arms around the poor thing.  
"She got sick two more times after we called Mr. Clark. We didn't have a number for you, Mrs. Clark" the secretary told her.  
"Oh, yes, we'll have to get that fixed, won't we?" Grace said absently, brushing hair away from Rosalind's face, "Poor baby. Come on, we're going home. You can lay on my couch and watch Veggie Tales, okay, sweetie?" Rosalind nodded unhappily, sniffing back a tear or two. Grace kissed her forehead, noticing her skin was a bit warm. She took her backpack and her hand and they started out of the office and down the long hall.  
"Oh, it was nice meeting you Mrs. Clark!" the woman called as they walked and Grace decided she had some words for John.  
  
Later....  
  
John knocked on the door, not sure what Grace was going to say and really worried about Rosalind. Grace opened it, her hair pulled up in a very messy bun thing, a sweatshirt on over a pair of cut off shorts. She looked exhausted. And beautiful.  
"Hey" he said softly as he entered her apartment. He had decided she must either have about twenty brothers, or else they were very wealthy. The apartment was well furnished in white and green, with purple accents. The living room was almost the size of his whole apartment with big bay windows that were now only letting in light from street lamps. Two bedrooms and a good size kitchen, it was an expensive apartment. He couldn't afford it on his salary and he didn't figure she could on hers alone. Nice brothers.  
She didn't look angry, or at least, she looked like she HAD been angry and wasn't anymore. He pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss, then pushed her head against his chest, where it went naturally anyway.  
"I'm sorry, sweetie" he apologized. He had never been able to get a hold of Maria and she had had to cancel all of her appointments to take care of his daughter.  
"Maria finally called about ten minutes ago" she told him quietly, "Her car broke down on the other side of the city and she had only just gotten home"  
"Awe. Are you going to be in trouble at work?" He was being just as quiet as she was, figuring Ros was asleep somewhere, though he didn't see her on the couch.  
"I'm part owner, John, I can do anything I want" she said somewhat testily, "Rosalind's in my bed, asleep" She added and pulled him down the short hallway to her door which was standing open. Rosalind was almost lost under Grace's huge, puffy silver quilt in her queen sized bed. He sat on the edge and ran a hand over her forehead.  
"She still has a little bit of a fever" Grace told him, "But she hasn't thrown up in a few hours, so she'll probably be able to eat a little later" Grace watched for a minute while John put a tender kiss on his daughter's head.  
"All right, where's her stuff?" he asked.  
"Oh, John, you might as well just leave her!" Grace objected, heading back for the kitchen, "I already cleared my schedule for tomorrow"  
"Grace, you didn't have to do that" John told her, following and taking the glass of wine she handed him. She didn't drink, but she kept it in the apartment for guests. She poured herself a coke.  
"I don't mind, really" she said, "She shouldn't have to be carted around to Maria's and then back home, especially when I can just watch her here" John set his glass down and wrapped her up in his arms again.  
"All right" he agreed, "I'll bring some stuff back in the morning" He looked down into her emerald eyes, seeing all the goodness that made her beautiful soul up behind them. He dropped his head, but stopped just before her lips.  
"I love you" 


	24. The Big Secret

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please? AN: I know this skips around a lot...I told you!  
  
John opened the door and stepped in. Rosalind was in the courtyard, playing with the sidewalk chalks Grace had given her. Today was the first day it had really been warm enough to go outside for any length of time.  
"Hi, John!" Grace greeted him from her sink, where he could see she was talking on the phone.  
"No, not John. John!" she told whoever she was talking to, "He just walked in" John gave her a quizzical look as he opened the fridge and grabbed the bag of baby carrots she kept for munching on. He leaned up against the counter while she dried her dishes and rolled her eyes.  
"Yeah, he has a key, so what? Oh, please! You're neurotic, you know that?" She stuck her tongue out at the wall, which John assumed she was pretending was the other half of her conversation.  
"Not tonight!" she suddenly said forcefully, "I have play practice" she recovered, "We'll be there Saturday, that'll just have to be soon enough for you." She paused while whoever it was made a comment.  
"You know why, and you know I have good cause. Look, I've gotta go. I'll see you Saturday, all right?" She put her towel down and closed the last cupboard while she waited for a response.  
"Yeah. Fine. Love you too. Bye" she said quickly and a beep turned the phone off. John handed her a carrot. She seemed kind of frazzled.  
"What was that all about?" he asked. She crunched and rolled her eyes.  
"My brother" she shivered, "Scary lot, those" John decided not to comment. There was something about Grace's brothers that she kept hidden very well, some secret that made her jumpy and obtuse whenever they talked about them. Although she had several pictures of her parents sitting around her apartment, there were none of her brothers. And Grace was one of those people who took pictures of EVERYthing. Whatever it was though, it had John worried. He was a cop, after all, and he tended to think up the worst scenarios. Wealthy brothers? Irish, so they weren't part of the Mob, but there was nothing to say they couldn't be part of some other kind of criminal organization. She had said one of her brothers, Andrew was it? was a social worker, but that could be some kind of cover.  
He shoved the suspicions off. Grace come from a family of criminals? It was laughable. It had to be something else.  
"You have play practice tonight?" he asked, putting the carrots back in the fridge, "Does that mean no dinner?" It was Saturday, so neither of them had to work, which was nice. Rosalind was going to CCD for an hour so they'd have that time alone, and he figured they'd all go for dinner afterwards. But it sounded like that might not happen. Grace directed the fall plays and spring musicals at the local high school, and for the past two months she'd had practice practically every night. She said the spring musical was a bigger deal than the fall play, which he had gone to see and had been impressed with, for a high school production. The spring musical had a larger budget though and so he fully expected it to be spectacular. It had better be, with all the time it ate up! But Grace loved it, and he couldn't deny that the frenzy was perfect for her. Oh, she might complain about being over worked, but she loved it, he knew. She was one of those people who loved to have something to do every second of every day.  
"No, of course not!" she answered, peering out the window to check on Rosalind down below, "Practice is from three to seven, so you can drop Rosalind off and then come pick me up" She dropped onto her green couch and blew a puff of air out of her lungs.  
"What's the matter?" he asked, plopping down next to her and putting his arm up around her shoulders. She immediately pulled her legs up and snuggled into him.  
"I'm just tired" she answered.  
"Yeah right" John said sarcastically, " You've been acting nervous ever since last week when you told me we were going to that family thing" He waited for her to reply but she didn't. He had to brush the hair away from her face to see that she had fallen asleep. John shook his head in wonderment. She really was tired.  
  
Later......  
  
John pulled the door open and stepped in. He could see light spilling from the gym doors and headed straight for them. It was eerie to be in a school at night, when no one was around and the lights were all off. He pulled the gym doors open and found himself at the other end from the stage. Teens were laying around, with bags of chips, school books and homework out, magazines lying open, one group was sitting in a circle playing some card game that made them giggle and laugh hysterically, and some were swapping cd's in another corner. There were two adults other than Grace, both sitting in plastic chairs facing the stage with scripts in their hands. There were four kids on stage, a girl and three boys, and they were standing, just listening to Grace, who was climbing onto the stage.  
"No, no!" she said, but not harshly, "Look, she's just seen Tony die!" They were doing West Side Story. "A piece of her soul has just vanished, been extinguished. She's devastated, she's gone a little mad. It's a tragedy, think Romeo and Juliet." John found himself captivated as he watched her kneel down to provide an example. She suddenly ceased to be Grace and became Maria. Her expression revealed the sheer mind numbing pain she was experiencing with every muscle. She clutched her two hands to her heart as if she were holding the dead boy's (who wasn't there) and he could see her start to tremble.  
"Tony? Tony!" she cried loudly, anguish spilling into her voice, "NO!" She shouted and everybody's head snapped up. They watched as she reached for the gun, like she was in a trance, and stood up, just looking at it, lying in her hands.  
"How do you work this thing, Chino?" she asked in Maria's shocked voice, "Do you just.....pull this back?" They all heard the gun cock.  
"How many bullets are left Chino?" she asked quietly, but there was now steel in her voice.  
"Enough for you?" she shouted, pointing it to one side of the stage. John figured if he had been up there he would've jumped back. She sounded crazy, wild.  
"And you?" She swung around, still pointing the gun, to the other side of the stage. John was astonished with her acting abilities. No, it wasn't acting. She had stopped acting, and she had become the character. There was a difference. And then she stopped. She lowered her arm and she was Grace again.  
"Okay?" she handed the gun to the girl who was on stage watching, then hopped back to the floor.  
"One more time" she said and stood there to watch as the boy got back on the floor. John crossed the gym quickly and came up behind her, putting a hand on the small of her back to alert her to his presence. She turned her head quickly, startled.  
"Oh, hey! Is it seven already?" she asked, glancing at the clock on the wall, "Okay, guys, it's seven. We'll pick it up from here Monday! Help clean up, then you can go home!" She said loudly enough for the entire gym to hear her.  
"John, can you help me with this?" she asked, picking up one end of what looked like a scoring table.  
"Yeah" he replied and they carried it back up onto the stage.  
"Hey, Grace, is this one of your brothers?" the girl playing Maria asked as she folded up some chairs on the stage.  
"No, he's not one of my brothers" Grace informed her. Suddenly a myriad of girls seemed to be surrounding John.  
"Really?" one of them asked, "This must be your boyfriend, then, the cop?"  
"You girls leave him alone!" Grace warned lightly.  
"He's pretty cute, Grace, but I'm telling you, you could get someone better than a cop" another girl said.  
"I don't want anyone better than a cop" Grace replied.  
"So when you gonna ask her to marry you?" the Maria girl asked, hands on hips.  
"Yeah, you've been going out for almost a year!" another girl cried.  
"For heaven's sake, Bethany, Carly, get out of here!" Grace came to rescue him, pushing the girls away and dragging him back down to the gym floor, where he was afraid he was now going to have to face the boys because they were all standing around in a group.  
"Hey, Grace, what time is practice tomorrow?" one of them asked.  
"We don't have practice tomorrow, Eddy, can you READ a schedule?" Grace told him.  
"I lost it" Eddy replied.  
"Get one from Helen" Grace instructed him, picking her coat up off the floor.  
"She already gave me three!" Eddy objected. Grace just rolled her eyes and turned the lights off as she ushered the last few kids out the door.  
"Bye Helen!" she called at one of the other directors as she locked up.  
"Sorry about that" she apologized, looping her arm through his as they headed to the car. They were going for coffee before they had to pick Rosalind up.  
"I was starting to wonder if they'd settle for my driver's license or if I'd have to produce a birth certificate and pay stub" John joked. Grace laughed.  
They settled at a cozy little table with their coffees at about 7:30. That nervousness had returned to Grace's countenance as she took a sip.  
"John? You know how we have that family thing Saturday?" He nodded, "Well, there's, um, something I should probably tell you." He waited for her to continue.  
"You know how, whenever you ask about my brothers I make some stupid comment that's not really an answer and then change the subject?"  
"Yeah" he said, sipping from his coffee.  
"Well, that's cause I, well, I didn't want you to know....it usually scares..." she stopped herself, shut her eyes, then opened them.  
"I have nine brothers, John" she said. That was the big secret? They weren't mobsters, or terrorists, or car thieves or anything like that? John felt relieved....................wait. Did she say NINE brothers?  
"Nine?" he repeated.  
"They tend to scare boys off. I generally don't take men I like home, because when I do, I generally don't ever see them again" Grace told him meekly, waiting for him to say something else.  
"Nine brothers?" John said again, "Wow. That's....a lot of brothers" Her expression told him that wasn't all though.  
"They're...all...older" she added. Nine older brothers. Nine! He'd dated girls with older brothers before. Usually, combined with a Dad and the occasional uncle, one brother was enough of a menace to tread carefully. But Grace was Irish, which meant a big, close family. A dad, at least three or four uncles, maybe from both sides of the family, and nine brothers! Nine protective brothers too. Weren't they the ones paying for her apartment because they hadn't like the neighborhood of the last one?  
"Well, I think we're going to have an interesting time Saturday" he said.  
"You're not going to run away, are you?" she asked. That's what she had been worried about all this time. That he'd do what every one else in their right mind would do and run away, screaming, from the prospect of nine protective older brothers, and the likely hood of a good beating. But he wasn' t in his right mind. He was in love.  
"No, I'm not going to run away. I love you" he said, caressing her hand, "Even if I have to face nine older brothers" She smiled happily at him.  
"Well, you might as well start telling me about them" he said.  
"Goody!" she said and reached in her purse to draw out a picture. She pulled her chair around to sit beside him. He could see the picture was of her family, all twelve members. Some of the men were red heads like she was, some had dark black hair like their mother. All of them had red faces and big smiles, with the exception of two who seemed to have hard won tans.  
  
"Okay, this is Peter, he's the oldest. He was the only one born in Ireland. He's fifteen years older than me" she started, pointing to a red head.  
"Fifteen years?" John repeated.  
"My parents weren't planning on me" she explained, and went on, "He's a Priest. His homilies are great but they are sooooo long!" She babbled on, pointing to each man in turn, and telling some little thing about them. Paul was the second oldest, fourteen years older, and a lawyer, despite family objections and a disownment from one of his third cousins in Ireland. Mathew and Mark were twins, Mathew was a teacher and had three kids, Mark was a mechanic with his own business and four kids. Luke was a wall street man and turned a pretty profit. John was another priest.  
"It's gonna be funny, having two Johns in the house!" Grace exclaimed when she told him that. Then there was Andrew, the social worker, and lastly, Patrick and Michael, more twins, who were both painters and construction workers, hence the tans.  
"Well?" she asked in the car on the way to pick Rosalind up. John looked over at her.  
"Well, I think I have some homework to do" he said and she laughed. 


	25. First Impressions

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
John turned right as Grace instructed him. They were in a nice neighborhood, big houses that looked like they were built, and kept up nicely, in the 1800's. Grace directed him to one on the left, on the side of a horseshoe. There were cars everywhere, but there was enough room at the end of the driveway for him, so he pulled in.  
"Hope I didn't take one of your brother's places" he said as he put it in park, "So what exactly is the big deal about today?"  
"It's Mum's birthday" Grace replied, adopting a slight accent as she said the word. He wondered if she hadn't had one growing up, an accent that is, and had simply discarded it when she'd moved into the career world. He circled the car and opened the door for her. She was wearing one of the fifties style dresses again, the ones she favored, this one with elbow length sleeves and no inciting neck line like many of her others. He supposed she had dressed for the occasion. It was turquoise, another of her favorite colors, and had Celtic knots kind of embossed around the hem and waist. She had told him not to mention the fact that he was German unless specifically asked, and even then to stammer a little and hope for a diversion.  
"Why? Your family prejudice?" he had asked.  
"No" Grace had answered, "They just prefer the Irish. Especially in men I'm seeing" At twenty four (almost five!) how many men could she have "seen"? Enough for her to know not to bring them home if she liked them apparently.  
They made their way between cars up the long drive way to the back door. In the setting sun John saw a well kept lawn and flower patches close to the house, a deck out back where there might be a pool, and more yard that was enclosed and made private by a fence of trees. He could hear people laughing and saw that the room they were about to enter, the kitchen probably, looked crowded through the windows. As they climbed the steps to the back porch, the door opened, letting out a lot of noise, and a man, who John guessed to be Andrew, or maybe Luke. One of the middle ones.  
"Hey, Gracie!" he cried as soon as he saw them and embraced his sister, "How's my favorite little sister doing?" This man had a slightly Irish accent, John noticed.  
"I'm your only little sister, have you forgotten again?" Grace laughed. More accent. John had the sneaking suspicion that it crept up on her around her family.  
"And this must be John, right?" Her brother suddenly turned on him. He seemed much bigger than he had a moment ago. Almost towering in fact. At least as big as Jones. With nothing else to do, John held out his hand.  
"Hey, nice to meet you" he said. The man laughed as he pumped his hand with an iron grip. John decided it must be a family trait or something.  
"Matt and Mark are going to love him!" he roared. Grace shook her head.  
"They get offended by politeness" she told him and rolled her eyes once more, "When you get introduced, just sort of nod like you could care less and you'll be fine" Her brother laughed again and went down the stairs. Grace turned around.  
"Hey, where're you going?" she demanded.  
"I'm just goin' to the car, Skittle, I'll be back in in a minute, I wouldn't want to miss anything!" he called back.  
"Skittle?" John asked.  
"Nick name" Grace explained, "They all have one for me. We had better just wait. He'll pout if we go in without him"  
"Which one was that, now?" he asked.  
"John. Priest"  
"That was a priest?" John exclaimed, looking over his shoulder at the man rummaging in his car. He was young, attractive, looked like he worked out, and was wearing jeans and a dark dark green sweater. Not the black with white collar John symbolized with the priesthood.  
"Shoot, now I won't even be able to pick those two out" he said quietly and Grace laughed. He had been glad that he would at least be able to tell which one's were Peter and John, the priests, because he doubted he'd be able to get the rest of them. Not that he was horrible with names, it was just that there were so many of them! But he didn't have long to contemplate it as John bounded back up the steps and opened the door so the couple could follow. They stepped into a brightly lit kitchen. It was large, with an island in the middle, but was crowded with six of the nine brothers.  
"Hey, look what I found outside!" John (O'Malley) called, bringing all of their attention to the new arrivals. Choruses of "Grace" and "Gracie" went up, each brother crowding closer to give their baby sister a hug, or tussle her hair.  
"Will ye leave my hair alone, Patrick!" she scolded a dark haired one. He gufawed.  
"Whose this ye brought, Giraffe?" another, red this time, asked.  
"Ach, into the living room with everybody else and I'll introduce ye" Grace told him and started pushing them all to the doorway. John had been right. She picked up that Irish accent around her family. They all spoke with accents. Fortunately they weren't hard to understand.  
"Mum!" Grace called as they entered the gigantic living room. There was one large couch, sitting four, in the middle facing the fireplace. To it's left was a large overstuffed chair, then a loveseat. On it's right was another chair and then a three seater. They were short one seat to fit the entire family. An older woman got out of one of the chairs to embrace Grace. She was Grace's height, about 5"5, and she had long black hair with some white streaks. She wore it in a single braid down her back. She was lithe and didn't look a day over 50, if she was a day over 50.  
"Why is it, on yer mother's birthday, everybody forgets about me?" a strong voice said from behind them all.  
"Probably because it's the only day we can forget about you, Da!" one of the boy's replied robustly, and John could've sworn it was the same voice. Grace smiled broadly and parted the sea, so to speak, to give her father a hug as well.  
"Well now, who's this young lad ye've brought home to us, Gracie, sweet?" The man turned his attention to John. He was every bit as large and burly as every one of his sons, who were of course all studying John now too. Even Grace's mother emanated a dangerous vibe. Grace crossed the room again to attach herself to John's arm.  
"Daddy, this is John Clark" she introduced them.  
"Nice to meet you sir" John said, hoping he sounded much more confidant than he felt. He realized that Grace came with a package, and this was it. He had better make a good impression now, while he had the chance. Problem was, how to do that?  
"Em" was all the man replied. The rest of the men were arranged in a half circle and Grace started at the beginning.  
"This is Peter, the eldest" And the head of the family, after Mr. O'Malley, John noted as he shook his hand. More iron. Definitely a family trait then.  
"That one is Andrew" she said about the next man. Another shake.  
"Then Matt and Mark" The requested head nod.  
"Paul, Luke, and you met Johnny" More hand shakes.  
"And then there's Patrick and Michael" That was all of them.  
"And this is me Mum" John shook the hand of the solid woman.  
"Happy Birthday, Mrs. O'Malley" he said. Ah, he did something right! She looked much more accepting than anyone else in the room.  
"Well, now, aren't you a sweet thing?" she patted his cheek with a smile, "Come on, boys, the potatoes are done!" The whole horde moved into the massive dining room with the long table which barely fit them all around it. The Irish believed in family dinners.  
The night progressed all right. John was grilled about his job, how dangerous it was, how long he'd lived in New York, where he'd gone to school, his political views, his religious convictions (which he kind of hedged around) and then his family. His father's death drew apologies, though he thought the fact that he had followed "his father's footsteps" was a plus in their book, but the mention of Rosalind kind of stemmed the conversation.  
"And the lass's mother?" Mr. O'Malley asked.  
"Dead, sir, as is her real father" John answered, "But the family takes an active involvement in her life. Her aunt, Maria Fointez, baby sits while I work and takes her to Church when I can't and her grandparents see her every other weekend."  
"Ach, well it's good of you to be takin in the poor thing, ain't it?" Mrs. O'Malley said, allowing for no argument or other view in her ranks, "The name Fointez, it's Hispanic, yes?"  
"Ah, yes, ma'am. I'm not sure about Maria's husband, but the Rodriguez's, that's Ros's family, they're Puerto Rican"  
"Ah, well the Hispanics make such lovely friends, aye? A wonderful culture" Mrs. O'Malley continued. And Catholic too, John silently added.  
"So, Peter, have ye heard from the Bishop? Are they movin' ye?" Mr. O'Malley asked his eldest. The heat was off of John. For now.  
It stayed off until the end of the meal when all the men moved into the living room.  
"It's almost over" Grace assured him with a kiss on the cheek.  
"Aye. But you'll have to go into the living room with the lads while Grace and I do the dishes yet" Mrs. O'Malley added as she gathered up plates.  
"Just the two of you do the dishes?" John asked.  
"Don't be thinkin it, lad" Mrs. O'Malley said, "They'll only brand ye a coward fer not standin up to them. Why you have to pick me birthday fer this, Grace!"  
"I did it on purpose, Mum!" Grace replied, grabbing a stack of plates, "The boys won't rip him apart on account of it!" They disappeared into the kitchen leaving John to face the O'Malley men all by himself. He figured he might as well get it over with and so went to the living room.  
"Ah, there ye are, John" Peter said as he entered, "Come, have a tank will ye?" he held a beer out for John.  
"Uh, no, thanks, I've gotta drive home" John replied, hoping it was the right answer. No fist in the face. That was a good sign.  
"So, John" Mr. O'Malley drawled from his chair, "You've been seein' our Gracie for almost a year now, eh?"  
"Uh, yes sir" John answered.  
"Well, isn't that nice?" he drawled again in his Irish accent. John felt like a lamb in the center of a pack of wolves.  
"She's a wee young, Gracie is. Head filled with fancy things" Peter said, sipping his beer. This was the other priest, John had to keep reminding himself. Surely he wouldn't commit murder?  
"She's got great dreams, I think" John replied, "She's great with kids"  
"Oh, aye. But all that dreamin, ye know, it makes her a little....oblivious....to things" Mr. O'Malley commented. The rest of the men seemed content to let the two heads handle the conversation. They just watched. With dark sparkling eyes and drool hanging from their fangs. Or maybe it was blood.  
"I've never been witness to Grace missing a thing" John said. O'Malley and Peter exchanged a look.  
"She's been known to bring home the occasional tramp" Peter told him, "The wild, dirty kind what weren't no kind of pet" Pet? He was comparing her former interests to pets? John was not a pet!  
"Good thing I wash daily then" he said. He waited for some kind of explosion. And he got it. An explosion of laughter. All ten of the men gufawed at his comment.  
"Aye, boyou" O'Malley thumped his knee, "Aye you smell like soap, ye do! And ye're still wet behind the ears from all that washin' I expect!"  
Nothing more was said and indeed the entire atmosphere of the evening lightened so much that John ended up really enjoying it. The O'Malley's were a curious lot, over protective of their youngest member and eager enough to do anything for her. Never once did she get up to get herself a drink or fetch her purse for her chapstick. Neither, for that matter, did their mother. The boys had fun telling John embarrassing stories about each other, though John noticed they only told cute anecdotes about Grace's childhood, nothing that she might consider "mortifying" or crude. All in all, they seemed a happy and considerate family. John would have to get used to that, though he thought he'd enjoy it. He couldn't speak for Rosalind.  
"Well, that weren't too bad" Grace said as they drove home again. She gave John a winning smile.  
"You got Mum with that happy birthday bit, and Daddy and Peter took ye in" she told him, "That's all ye need. The rest of the boys'll follow their lead"  
"So I don't need to sleep with my gun under my pillow tonight, then?" John joked.  
"Nay!" Grace laughed. He knew where she got it now. Her entire family laughed. It was like some sort of disease or something.  
"I'll have to introduce them to Rosalind in smaller groups" she continued, "So as not to frighten the wee thing"  
"Do you know you adopt an accent when you go to your parents' house?" he asked, just in case she didn't.  
"Aye!" she laughed, and then laughed because she'd said 'aye' instead of yes.  
"It'll wear off by mornin'" she promised him. John reached for her hand and kissed the top of it.  
"I love you" he said, just for good measure. Grace's eyes smiled warmly back at him.  
"I love ye, too, John Clark" 


	26. The Asking

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
John fiddled with the small piece in his pocket. He'd been carrying it around for days now. He couldn't seem to even work the courage up to take it out to look at it recently. What was he thinking?  
"Hey! Hey!" John looked up across the desks set head to head. Andy had obviously been talking to him.  
"Oh, what?" he asked. Had he been drifting so far off that he was missing things at work? Oh, that wouldn't do, that wouldn't do at all. He would just have to do something about it.  
"Something on your mind, John?" Andy asked. John took a deep breath.  
"Yeah." he answered, "Yeah, I guess there is"  
"Wanna talk about it?" John fiddled with it some more. Without a word he took it out and held it out to Andy. Andy's eyebrows seemed to raise a bit and he nodded. John put it away.  
"Well, you'll have to do something about it" Andy told him.  
"No kidding" John replied. He intended to. This very night indeed. And so he found himself knocking a very intimidating door that night. The O'Malley's never seemed to use the front door. John had been over many more times after that initial night of Mrs. O'Malley's birthday. It seemed Grace had a great affection and attachment to her family. She usually dined there at least one night a week. They had taken Rosalind to meet the family, a little bit at a time so as not to frighten her. To their surprise, she was not at all frightened or intimidated by the large family. Indeed, she seemed to thrive in the large family. John suspected that she had grown used to it in Maria's house. Maria told him that her younger brother and sister, and their children and spouses, were constantly coming and going.  
They had met the spouses and children of the four of Grace's brothers that were married, and the girlfriends of two of the others. (All of whom were Irish with names like McGillig, Kennedy and O'Connor) Mathew's wife was Mary, Mark's was Margaret. Mathew had two girls and one boy, who was about Ros's age. Mark's kids were close to their teens, three boys and a girl. Andrew and Patrick were the other two who were married. John took a quick second to figure out all of their ages. If Grace was twenty four...Patrick and Michael, 31, Andrew, 32, John, 34, Luke, 35, Mathew and Mark, 36, Paul, 38, and Peter, 49. None of them were extraordinarily old, but they all seemed to have rather young families. (Paul and Luke were the two attached but unmarried lads)  
John swept all of this through his mind as the door nob turned and he faced Peter, the eldest and "head" of the family...someday anyway. He wore his "Priest outfit", the full black, relieved only by the white collar.  
"John!" he exclaimed, and physically pulled him in.  
"Mum! John's here!" he called.  
"Which one, dear!" Mrs. O'Malley called from another room.  
"The one that don't look like me twin!" Peter called, then looked passed him, out the door, "Where's Gracie, then?"  
"She's not here" John told him. Peter gave him an odd look and closed the door. Mrs. O'Malley came bustling through the doorway with a big smile on.  
"Hello, then, John!" she said happily, "Been expecting you for the past few days" John gave her a weird look. The woman often made strange comments like that, as if she knew what John had been considering for days. She had said something just a few weeks ago about how Grace disliked diamonds and preferred emeralds. It had been a private, pointed comment and John had taken it to heart.  
"Ye'll be wantin to see Eric, then? Well, he's in the garage, go on Peter, take him out there" she shooed Peter and John out the door with her kitchen towel. They found Mr. O'Malley in the garage working on his car.well, rather, polishing it.  
"John, heh there!" he greeted him happily enough, then stopped.  
"Mum sent us out, Da" Peter told him. Mr. O'Malley put his cloth down.  
"Ah, so ye've finally come, 'ave yeh?" he asked, not cheerily, but not unhappily either.  
"Molly thought ye'd be 'ere earlier, she did" he continued, "Ah, well, I suppose I'll be letting ye say it yerself" He looked at him as if waiting for something and John realized they all knew what he'd come to ask.  
"I'm going to ask Grace to marry me" John told them, all in one swift breath, so as not to lose nerve. Mr. O'Malley looked a little surprised, and looked at Peter. Peter shrugged.  
"Well, if she says yes," he said slowly, "Then we won' kill yeh. But, if ye ever make her unhappy, the demons of Ireland will be on your door, John Clark" And he turned and left.  
  
Two day's later.....  
  
"Where are we going?" Grace asked for about the twentieth time.  
"There's a step, here, hon" John told her, keeping a hand on her back and another on her arm as he led his blind folded date into an old brick building.  
"John, where are we going?" she repeated, her voice telling him he didn't have much time. She liked surprises, yes, but she didn't like being in the dark.  
"We're almost there," he told her, "Just trust me. There's a little incline" He led her down the isle, past the other seats.  
"Are we in a movie theatre?" she asked suspiciously. He waited just a second for the lights to go down and the beginning credits to come up before he took the blindfold off.  
"What..." The words "Roman Holiday" appeared on the screen and a little "oh" escaped her lips. He grew increasingly nervous as the movie progressed. They were the only two in the theatre. It was an old one he had been able to rent for the night. Grace was an eternal romantic, so a sit down dinner, in a nice restaurant, wouldn't do. This was what he could think of, and afford. He had thought about having them play "Sabrina", her favorite movie, but he somehow thought "Roman Holiday" would work better.  
So it was that his hands were a little sweaty when the movie ended and the credits were rolling.  
"Oh...I love that movie!" Grace breathed.  
"I love you" John replied, brushing a thumb down her cheek. This was it. It was time. Could he push those words out of his mouth? What would his life with her be like? How would Ros take it? Would they have more children? What would they name them? How would her brother's take it? What would the wedding be like? How would they work out the finances? Would she make demands that he couldn't fulfill? Would he ask her for something she couldn't give? What would they argue over? What if he died, in the line, what would happen to her?  
Then she smiled.  
"Marry me, Grace" he whispered, "Please? Be my wife." She didn't answer. For a second he thought she'd say no, for a second he thought he'd been way out of line, for a second he thought the world had ended.  
Then she smiled. 


	27. Unfinnished Jobs

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
"Ros, don't do that!" John cried. Rosalind looked at him sharply. She dropped the paper and went into the back room with her doll.  
"John" Grace cocked her eyebrow at him, "What is wrong with you lately?" John took a deep breath.  
"Nothing" he answered, "Sorry. Ros? Ros I'm sorry!" But the door was closed already and he just left her. He returned to the table with papers littered across it. They were pictures of cakes, flowers and some tuxes were mixed in there. Rosalind had been picking them up one by one, saying something like "Exquisite!" or "Nope, not this one" or "Did we get our manager to look at this?" (She was pretending to be some kind of celebrity) Meanwhile, she had succeeded in disorganizing things so badly, John had lost all track of which ones they had even looked at yet! Grace had brought the books over so they could look at them together, under the assumption that he had an opinion about anything other than his tux. Flowers, cake, colors, who cared? A wedding was about getting married, right, not how her dad would look in purple or if tiger lilies would look better than apple blossoms. John had found himself growing increasingly aggitated with the whole thing as the months had progressed. Besides the "marriage classes" with one of Grace's priests (not one of her brothers, thank God!) that were required of any couple in the Catholic church, he had undertaken the task of converting, something her parents had insisted on, though Grace had tried to talk them out of it. All he had to do was be baptized, but that meant he had to go through the classes all the same. He found it vaugley interesting, in a abstract kind of way, to learn about what Grace, and Rosalind for that matter, believed and what role "faith" played in their lives. Grace's brother Peter was teaching the class and he had confronted John with the question of wheather he was doing this for their parents, if he was doing this for Grace, or if he was doing this for himself.  
"Look, I'm not saying I'm going to believe in all of this stuff" John had answered, "But Grace is Catholic. Ros is being raised Catholic, I at least want to know what she's going to be learning." Though he knew this was not an answer to Peter's question, it appeared to satisfy his soon to be brother-in-law.  
It wasn't the matter of faith that was bothering him though. He didn't think it was the wedding either. He still loved Grace, amazingly and deeply. He wasn't scared of it....he had already asked himself that. He was ready to spend his life with one person, that had been something he'd known for a long time now. He just couldn't place what it /was/ that was bothering him.  
Grace was giving him a look. He knew that look. She used it on Ros sometimes. It was her 'doctor' look. The one that said "don't give me that, I know something's wrong and if you don't tell me I'm going to needle it out of you so you might as well just give up now and start blabbing"  
"John, honey" she put a hand on his forearm, "What's up? Work been bad, you're nervous, you really don't give a hoot about the wedding as long as their is one, you're tired of the classes, my brother's are getting to you, what?"  
"No, it's....none of that" he replied, covering her hand with his. She had great hands. Long and slim and silky, but iron. John did not share his feelings. He never had. He and his Dad....they were 'men'. When his Dad had died..............when his Dad had died John explained this to Rita, who wanted to 'talk'. He didn't talk, he told her, he......bottled.  
"What're you bottling?" The question startled him. Grace was giving him a different kind of look now. Not the doctor look, this one was more intuitive. She was looking past his face, past his body, through his eyes. She was looking for something. It was a thoughtful look that turned her eyes into sparkling crystal, like a glass ball she was looking into the past with. Or rather, forcing him to look through. John suddenly got the idea into his head that she was trying to use some kind of telepathic ability she hid from the world to figure out what was going on in his head. To tell the truth, he wouldn't mind it just now. He couldn't lie to her. And she was going to force him to talk.  
"I don't know, exactly" he said. She continued looking at him that way. She didn't stop for a good minute. All the sudden she looked sleepy and she put her head on his shoulder, snuggled up to him on the couch. He wrapped an arm around her and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel the heat from her body seeping into his and he took comfort in it. It wasn't just heat, though, it was something that crept through him and filled him. It was Grace.  
"So, the vests, then?" she murmured and he laughed. She was asking about the tuxes? After that?  
"Yeah, the vests, in green not purple" he replied. But he knew this wasn't over.  
  
A few weeks later............  
  
John sat up in bed, already in a bad mood. He sighed. Ros had crawled into bed with him again while he slept. He rubbed his hand over his face. The phone rang. John pushed the blankets back and tread softly into the front room.  
"Hello?"  
"John? You okay?" Andy's voice asked him.  
"Yeah. I'm fine. Why?"  
"You're an hour late" John glanced at the clock.  
"Shit. I'll be in in half an hour" he replied and hurried to don a suit and get Rosalind up and ready to go. He dropped her off and made it to work in 27 minutes.  
"You're late" Barbados called as he walked in.  
"Couldn't be helped" he called back, keeping his head low and hoping the boss wouldn't notice that he was lying through his teeth. He'd overslept? That hadn't happened since..well he couldn't remember.  
"Rough night?" Andy asked quietly as they headed back out the door to a crime scene. John rolled his eyes.  
"You have no idea" It was like that all day long. John snapped at everyone, giving them terse answers to perfectly sane questions and feeling like he was itching inside. What was eating him up, none of the rest of the squad could quite figure out. His wedding was growing closer, but none of them had any doubts about his feelings for Grace or the fact that he was truly ready and truly wanted to marry her. And his behavior could not be accounted for by nervousness, it was too brutal. The mystery carried over to Grace, who now sat beside him on her couch while they watched "We're No Angels". He was rigid and tense beside her, and she could feel him emanating discomfort and impatience.  
"Oh for heaven's sake, what is wrong with you?" she finally cried, forgetting that one of her favorite movies was on and directing all of her attention to her fiancé. A muscle in John's jaw twitched and he shrugged.  
"Nothing" he replied tersely, his eyes trained on the television. He could feel her giving him a look though and knew that wouldn't do.  
"I don't know" he added.  
"The hell you don't" she said. Something in John coiled up tighter.  
"You sound just like my old man" he growled. She suddenly softened beside him.  
"Oh." She said simply. It was such a knowing "oh" that John's head snapped around and he gave her a hard look.  
"What?" he demanded.  
"Your dad" she replied, "He's what's bothering you" John gave her a "what the heck are you talking about" look. She gave him her calm "it's okay, I know and I'll explain it to you so you don't have to figure it out the hard way" look.  
"It's either your still mad at him, or you wish he was here to tell you you're doing the right thing, and that marriage is great and whatever else father's tell their sons when they're getting married" she told him. John thought about it. Now that she had spelled it out, he realized, he did wish his father were there. Sure he'd been a mean old bastard, impossible to live with, unbearable to talk to and basically a pain in the ass, but he had been his father. If nothing else, the time they'd spent together made John wish he were around. He felt jealous of Grace, with both of her parents, all nine of her brothers, aunts, uncles and cousins up the wazoo, always around to support her, to talk to. And that brought him around to being mad at his father. If the daffed fool hadn't gone and shot himself, he'd be here now for John. And who knows? Maybe he would've found the purpose John had been in Ros, or Grace, or in their family. As it was, none of his children would ever have more than one set of grandparents.  
"What the hell was he thinking?" he spat, not really expecting anyone to answer.  
"He probably wasn't" Grace answered.  
"He said there wasn't a reason for him to live anymore, you know that? Cause I'd grown up, his job was done. Bullshit! It was his job, to be there when I got married! It was his job, to be there when I adopted Rosalind! It was his job to be there when I had my first kid, and when they were sick and I had to work, and to spoil them at Christmas and to carry pictures of them around in his wallet to brag about!" John ranted on and on about all the things he'd always just assumed his father would be there to do, and now wasn't.  
"Who the hell am I supposed to talk to when we fight? Who the hell's going to tell me it's worth it to stick it out? Now where am I supposed to go to watch a ball game in silence when I don't feel like being around here, or fight with about how to raise my kids?" He had gotten up and had been pacing while Grace simply watched silently from the couch. Now he dropped back down beside her. She reached around and rubbed his back.  
"You're father was being selfish when he took his life, true. He couldn't think about all those things that come later in life, the time he was just entering. His life had for so long been focused on just raising you, that he thought he'd reached his final goal. And it's not fair that he's not here for you now, that he won't be in the back room to talk you into going to the alter, that he won't be there when we fight, that he won't be there to see his grandchildren. I'm sure, wherever he is, he's regretting his actions. And I'm sure he's watching, talking to you silently, if you'll just listen" John could feel his anger leaving his body, rushing out through his fingers and toes and the top of his head like so much hot air. Whether it was Grace's voice, Grace's reasoning, or the fact that he'd ranted, he didn't know. She tried to fold his hands into her much smaller ones, her gentle face bringing his gaze up to hers. He could see the love and tenderness and understanding in her beautiful eyes and he remembered why he loved her so damn much, why he was so eager to put a ring on his finger and before the entire world declare her to be his, even if it meant losing a piece of his freedom.  
"You're dad's not here, John" she said, "But I am. And Ros is. And there are nine men who are about to become your brothers who would lay down their lives for you. And there's another man who's about to become your surrogate father. I know it's not the same, but, if you're dad has anything to say to you, my dad'll gladly tell you" She was offering him her father. Her father, in the place of the one he'd lost. John suddenly realized he'd felt very much like an orphan, now that he didn't.  
He smiled at her.  
"That's just what we need" he said, "My Pop talking through yours!" 


	28. The Wedding

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
It was beautiful. So said every guest.  
"Just, calm down" Andy slapped him on the back. He tugged at his neck tie. He smoothed out his green vest. He took a deep breath and shook his hands.  
"Hey, Andy......."  
"Yeah, I know" Andy said, "You're welcome" Andy was his best man. He hadn't known who else to ask. Andrew and Paul, Grace's brothers, were his other groomsmen. He hadn't had anyone else to ask and they were the only two who didn't have a part to play in the wedding. Both Peter and John were officiating, Mathew, Mark and Luke were doing the music (though they insisted on setting up in the sanctuary instead of the balcony so they could see everything) and Patrick and Michael were doing the readings. They were all in black tuxes with green vests, except her dad who was in plum (as she insisted it was not merely purple). She had surprised him by asking Connie to be one of her bridesmaids, along with one of her cousins and her secretary, Laney and Jenna, both of whom John had met long ago as they were her best friends.  
So now, tiger lilies and wisteria in place, four tier cake set up, and the DJ testing his mikes down the road at the reception hall, John paced in the back room, waiting for the clock to move it hands to the six. Somewhere out there, Grace was fluffing out a huge white skirt, handing Rosalind her flowers, and making sure she had something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. He paced back and forth, trying to wear a hole in the carpeting.  
" 'ey, boyo, get out 'ere" Peter stuck his head in and jerked it towards the sanctuary. John was hoping he'd be able to understand what the man would be saying, considering his accent had doubled, at least. In fact, all of Grace's brother's accents seemed to have thickened. John wondered if they could possibly be as nervous as he. He very much doubted it.  
Peter had to direct him to his place, Andy, Paul and Andrew taking their places behind him. He found it was a little hard to breath and his heart was bouncing up and down in his chest. He hissed out a deep breath and turned toward the back of the church when the music started. It was an Irish tune, low and kind of mournful sounding to John, but it was what she had wanted. The bridesmaid's filed in and took their places, all looking very nice in their plum colored dresses. Then the bagpipes started and everybody stood up. John felt like bolting. The only thing keeping him in place was the firm hold of Andy's hand on his arm. He swallowed hard and waited.  
Rosalind came first. She was adorable in her specially made green and plum plaid dress, spreading multicolored rose petals on the carpeted aisle. She gave him a happy little smile and he grinned back at her, hoping she couldn't tell how nervous he was really feeling. He turned his attention back to the end of the aisle and stopped breathing completely.  
She was on her father's arm, looking very small and delicate next to the giant. Her wonderful red hair was half piled on her head, half hanging down her back. The veil was a simple piece of material with some lace work around the edges, held on to her head with two little opal studded combs that looked like they had been in the family for eons. Her dress exposed her delicate shoulders just a bit, and then fell into bell sleeves that only went to her elbows. The neckline was cut in a diamond shape but didn't cut down too far. John was wondering how she'd be able to walk in the huge skirt that, for all he knew, had a hoop underneath.  
But what she was wearing only briefly passed through his mind because his eyes had come to rest on her face, alight with a smile that went from one perfect ear to the other perfect ear. Her crystal green eyes looked like emeralds and if her cheeks were just a little flushed it only enhanced her beauty.  
He wasn't nervous anymore. There was absolutely nothing to be nervous about. He was doing the right thing, and he'd never regret it a day in his life. He could see the same feeling in her eyes, in her smile. It all seemed perfectly natural, and he wondered how he'd ever even lived without her as his wife.  
And then she was there beside him, and her father was putting her hand in his. They both turned to her older brother, who was going to tie them together forever and eternity, both immersed in the complete paradise of their love. 


	29. Life in a Sitcom

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
"Hey! Welcome back! How was the honeymoon?" Jones asked as John walked into the office, shucking his coat off with a grin.  
"It was good" he answered, his satisfied look letting the other man knowing exactly how good it had been.  
"How'd Rosalind take it?" Jones inquired politely, remembering that the girl had always been quiet and more than a little obsessed with her adoptive father.  
"She stayed at Connie and Andy's for a while, then at her Aunt Maria's" John said, "They said she seemed fine with everything. She was happy enough when we got home though" He shook his head, remembering how she'd climbed up his arm so she could choke him with a fierce little hug. Grace had laughed and hugged her in his arms. It had been late when they got home so they'd put her straight to bed, in John's apartment as they hadn't moved yet, but she'd been talkative this morning while getting ready for school.  
"Hey! How was Venice?" Metaboy asked, coming out of the bathroom.  
"It was great!" John told him, "We had a lot of fun"  
"When you movin?" the older man wanted to know.  
"Ah, Grace and her brothers took the day off. They're moving all my stuff to her place" John answered. He had wanted to stay home and help but he knew he had to get back to work.  
"I thought you guys were gettin' a house" Jones asked.  
"Yeah, we want to, we just, haven't found one yet" John answered. They wanted something close to everything and in their price range, not something easy to find. Plus, secretly, John wanted to find one that would have enough room for a family just as big as Grace's. They both wanted a lot of kids, she because it was part of her culture and upbringing, he because he hadn't liked being an only child.  
His day went about what he expected it to. It was never easy to say you had a "good" day when you worked in homicide, but they found all of their bad guys so it was as good as it was going to get. He was happy to come home to Ros's happy humming and the smell of Grace's cooking.  
"Daddy!" Ros screeched and tugged on his arms. Grace rounded the corner with her spatula still held in her hand.  
"Hi, sweety" she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, "How was work?"  
"Not bad" he told her truthfully.  
"Daddy, help me with my homework!" Ros begged, pointing at her papers spread across the coffee table in living room. It looked like history, a safe subject.  
"Okay, let me go change quick, kay?" He went back to Grace's (their) bedroom and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He went back out and helped his daughter with her homework, then ate the dinner his wife had made, then they all played a game of Uno before putting Rosalind to bed. He and Grace had spent a couple hours unpacking the last few boxes of his stuff and finding places for everything before going to bed themselves. And as he slipped between the sheets and Grace snuggled up against him, he reflected on the second half of his day, so different from what it had been not too terribly long ago. A smile turned his lips as he slipped off into sleep. He could get used to living in a fifties sitcom. 


	30. A Game of Chess

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
"Get an ambulance here, now!" Andy shouted to the uniforms still fanning out.  
"It's too late" Connie told him, bending next to the dead woman, "She's dead."  
"Damn it!" John cursed, straddling the burly man's back and locking his wrists into the handcuffs.  
"You can't prove it was me!" the man sneered into the carpet.  
"Shut up, you!" Andy warned him before John pulled him to his feet and handed him off to the uniforms standing around to take him.  
"Hey," the man resisted just a bit, "At least tell me who you are" They all knew better.  
"Hey, Detective Clark!" another uniform called racing in from the hall and going directly to John.  
"Clark, huh?" the man's black eyes glittered with the information, "Don't think you'll be hearin' the last from me!" John didn't think anything of his threat. Most of the perps they took in made some kind threat or plead and they'd all become used to ignoring them.  
Carlos Renald was sentenced to life imprisonment for murder in the first degree. The case was a circus, the convict was the brother of Torence Renald, a man the NYPD had been after for two years for a dozen murders and drug charges. Torence, it seemed, was a powerful man in the underworld though and he continued to escape their grasp. The media hounded the detectives that had brought the brother of such a man in, and John had told Grace to start screening all her calls, at work and at home.  
"What's the matter with you?" Grace asked one night after they'd put Rosalind to bed.  
"Ah, it's nothing" he smiled at her, hoping she'd drop it. But he knew the woman he'd married and he wasn't surprised when she didn't.  
"If it was nothing you wouldn't be thinking about it" she said, brushing her lips across his. For a second they both forgot about what it was that was bothering John as he wrapped arms around her and kissed her hard.  
"Mmmmm" she groaned low in her throat as she pulled away, "Cheater"  
"It's just something a perp said when we took him in" John admitted. Grace furrowed her brow.  
"What'd he say?"  
"That I wouldn't be hearing the last of him" John told her, popping a beer. She frowned at him.  
"Don't most of them say that?"  
"Yeah, but....there was something about the way he said it" Grace drained the sink of her dirty dish water and ran her fingers through his hair. She had to reach up as far as she could to do it, but he appreciated the reassuring gesture. He bent his head and nuzzled her ear.  
"I'm sure it's nothing" she told him breathlessly. He didn't bother to respond, putting his beer on the table and leading his wife to the back of the apartment.  
The day the gavel fell, John had an odd feeling. Like something wasn't quite right with the world. He was sitting at his desk when his phone rang.  
"Clark"  
"I'm so glad you know who you are" a strange voice said. John frowned.  
"Excuse me?"  
"You know, we have something in common, you and I" The voice was definately a man's, it was deep and gruff, almost like he was trying to mask it. He spoke slowly and deliberately, dangerously.  
"Who is this?" John demanded.  
"I'm disappointed. The NYPD can't even anticipate that I might do something about my brother's unjustified incarceration?" John felt the blood draining from his face. He had a very bad feeling about this phone call.  
"Torence Renald" It wasn't a question. The name got the attention of the whole squad and Andy snatched up his phone to listen in on the conversation.  
"Very good, Detective Clark. My little brother tells me you weren't very amiable during his arrest" Renald continued sinisterly, "Tut tut. You didn't take his warning lightly, did you Detective? Oh, I think you did. Not a very good move. Life is a game of chess, Detective Clark" the sick man chuckled slightly, "And I've just caught your Queen. Your move" And then all of the sudden he hung up.  
"He's got your queen?" Andy repeated, "What the hell does that mean?" John was staring off at nothing.  
"Grace" he finally breathed and fired his fingers over his phone, dialing the number to his wife's office.  
"Laney? Is Grace there?" he asked her secretary.  
"No, she just left to pick Rosalind up" the woman on the other end told him.  
"Does she have her cell phone with her?" he asked hurriedly, feeling like he was wasting time.  
"I don't think so" Laney answered, "She was just going to come right back with Rosalind. But I expect she'll call from the school, she's probably forgotten all about her 4 o'clock. Why, is something wrong?"  
"When she calls tell her to come down to the station immediately. And to bring Ros" John instructed her.  
"Okay. Oh, that's her now. I'll tell her" Laney hung the phone up so she could talk to her boss.  
"She okay?" Connie asked worriedly.  
"She's picking Ros up" he told them, "She's gonna come down here"  
"I'll tell the boss" Jones offered and knocked on the Lieutenant's door. They all waited impatiently as Grace made her way through the city traffic to the station. John was pacing by the time she got up the steps and rushed into the office.  
"Grace!" He immediately enveloped her in a strong embrace, relishing the feel of her in his arms, letting out some of the pent up fear that had been residing in his chest. He planted a kiss on top of her hair and breathed in the smell of her perfume.  
"Thank god" he whispered lowly, then glanced around, "Where's Ros?" He demanded.  
"Her teacher said Maria had already picked her up" Grace told him.  
"Maria wasn't supposed to pick her up today" John said, fear seeping back into his heart, "Was she sure it was Maria?"  
"I didn't grill her John" Grace frowned, "What's going on?" He didn't have time to answer before the phone rang. He fumbled to bring the receiver to his ear, and then nearly dropped it when he heard the voice on the other end.  
"Daddy?" His heart dropped into his stomach, which leapt into his throat.  
"Ros?" 


	31. Everybody Stay Calm

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
Fear ran through him like ice water. His muscles tightened up and he clutched the phone as if it were life itself. The rest of him was shaking as if he just spent the night naked in a bank of snow. He was trying to breath but his lungs were too frozen to take in any air. In a few seconds, he was going to actually die of fear. Die because he was frozen with fear.  
And then Grace's fingers wrapped around his arm. Her warmth seeped in through his skin and started to melt the ice away. He could bring oxygen in. He could turn his head. And when he looked down at his wife, he did not see the fear or the sadness that he had expected to see. Instead he saw anger, determination, resolve and strength.  
And then there was no ice left. It had all exploded into fire.  
"That's right, Clark" a gruff voice John recognized immediately, "You took my little brother, and now I'm taking your little girl"  
"What do you want?" John asked harshly. These hardly ever did anything simply for revenge.  
"Oh so you're not quite as stupid as my brother said you were" Renald sneered over the phone, "That's right. I do want something. You let my brother go, and I let your little girl go. That's the deal"  
"I can't make that deal" John replied, hoping for an easier deal"  
"Well then, I guess I've got a replacement for my little brother!" Renald declared and cut the connection.  
"Damn it!" John yelled loudly and threw the receiver onto his desk.  
"All right, all right" Andy tried to calm his young partner down. The rest of the squad was standing about watching. Clark was obviously distraught, breathing hard and pacing. This they expected. Grace however, they did not. She was stone. Her beautiful green eyes glittered like cold emeralds picked from ice and her calm expression looked as if it were carved in marble.  
"John, we'll get her back" she announced. There was absolutely no doubt in her voice. In fact, there was an edge in her voice that sounded a lot like a merciless knife posed to strike. John sighed and gathered her into his arms. She didn't need the comfort, but he did.  
"She's right John. We'll work something out, we'll do some kind of sting or something. We'll get them both"  
"Yeah" John whispered but he wasn't really listening.  
  
Three hours later, the squad office and The Clark's apartment were both swarming with IT guys, tapping the phones, getting ready just in case....something, anything....happened. And they were all trying to come up with a plan to free their colleague's daughter.  
"We don't have anything on him" someone was saying, "We've got the evidence to lock him away, but we can't find him. Can't ever find him" John and Grace were ignoring their pessimistic banter. John felt like a caged animal. Grace had called all of her brothers and her parents. Then she had taken the phone to the back room and made another call that no one heard because she took the tap out.  
"Why the hell'd you do that?" one of the techs cried when she emerged. John wanted to know how she knew how to do it, and how to put it back in. She, however, did not answer. She simply raised one of her beautifully arched eyebrows and handed the phone to the tech. John didn't dare ask.  
Peter and Luke both showed up to "comfort" the young couple. Neither one of them needed hugs or assurances that their child would be returned to them. They both knew it would happen, it was just a matter of how and when, and what sort of condition she would be returned in.  
"It's bes' fer ya to focus on normal things" Luke was telling them. The sibling's accents had reemerged in the crisis. Grace nodded at her brother and then turned to the stove to make dinner. She peeling an entire bag of potatoes, the only sign that she was distraught. John knew her comfort food was potatoes. He'd seen her eat three raw ones in a row instead of a bag of popcorn with he and Rosalind.  
The thought of his missing daughter would have made John cringe if he hadn't been distracted so quickly.  
"Do you fancy a run, John?" Peter asked suddenly.  
"A run?" John repeated, not quite grasping the concept.  
"Aye. Around the block a couple o' times, eh?" his brother-in-law explained. John couldn't imagine leaving the house. What if something happened while he was gone? What if he missed a call or some other unforeseen development came up and he wasn't there to handle it personally?  
"Yeah, sure" he replied, though he had to force the words through his teeth. Luke was right, they had to do something to distract themselves or the seconds and minutes and hours (but not days, it would not be days) would stretch like eternity until something happened. He went in back and changed into some shorts and a t-shirt. Peter kept a hard pace to keep up with and by the time they'd circled the block three times John had sweat dripping into his eyes where the salt stung and made them water even more.  
"Good Lord!" Grace cried when they walked back in. While John's clothes were practically dripping with salt and water, Peter barely needed to change his shirt. John stood in his kitchen, one hand on the table the other lifting sacred water to his lips, wondering how in the world the older man could be so much more fit.  
"Int' the sho'er with the both o' ya" Grace ordered, "An' don' you be leaving those filthy clothes in me hamper, John Clark! You fill the sink up and soak 'em!" John almost laughed as she waggled a finger at him. Peter shook his head and headed to the other bathroom. When they emerged, both well cleansed and smelling of the sandalwood soap Grace stocked, the young Mrs. Clark had dinner ready for them on the table. There were fresh steamed green beans, mountains of potatoes, and some beef that had obviously been boiled with cabbage and onions. It was not corned beef and John almost hesitated before putting it in his mouth, but then didn't when he got a warning look from Luke. The IT men tried to stay out of sight while the family ate a tense meal, all pretending nothing was amiss and all know there was.  
Luke and John were putting away the last of the dinner dishes when the phone rang. John waited for the signal from the IT man before he picked it up.  
"Well, have you rethought your decision, Detective?" Renald's scratchy voice asked unpleasantly.  
"I can get him a reduced sentence" John answered as per his instructions.  
"Not good enough Detective. If you want your daughter back, I want my brother back. What shall it be, Detective? Shall I go tell a frightened little girl that her daddy doesn't want her?" John knew that that's what the evil man would tell his daughter too, that he didn't want her. Renald would brainwash her to the point that even if they ever did get her back, she'd probably hate them all.  
"All right, all right!" John replied hastily, trying to convince the kidnapper that he didn't have a plan already, "I'll see what I can do. I'll pull some strings"  
"Very good, Detective." Renald answered. John almost sighed with relief. Maybe they would even have Rosalind back in their arms tonight!  
"I'll call you again tomorrow" 


	32. Gracie's Great Rescue

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
John stood alone in the rain. He knew he wasn't really alone, but as he glanced around he was surprised to see that even he couldn't tell where his back up was hiding. A cold breeze blew into his coat and the goose bumps that were alive on his skin started crawling. He was nervous as hell, he admitted to himself. He had been surprised when Grace hadn't insisted on coming with him. For the past two days she'd been almost scary, walking around with a casual look on her face and ice in her usually warm eyes. One or more of her brothers had been around constantly, though some of them would drop in only to exchange a whisper with one of their siblings before dashing off again. The IT teams hadn't thought anything of it, but John was becoming increasingly suspicious of his young but very capable wife. He could see some hidden agenda sparkling in her eyes.  
He couldn't worry about that just now. Rain was running down his back and for probably the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, John cursed Renald for adding that menacing "not even an umbrella" in his rendezvous instructions. The wind howled by again and John took a look around. He was standing outside of a corny Italian restaurant called Luigi's. Across the street were a butcher's shop, a book store and an abandoned building. To his right was a seamstress's store and on the left a bike shop. Andy and Connie were in the bookstore, Rita and Jones were in the seamstress's and Metaboy and the Lieutenant were in the bike shop, plus there were snipers and even a bomb squad standing at the ready. Somewhere.  
A blue Sedan drove by, and stopped. A tall woman with bouncy blonde hair stepped out in a pair of stilettos and patent leather pants. She tossed him a smile as she jogged past him to the seamstress's. The car rolled away. John put his heart back down in his chest and tried to control his breathing a little better.  
"Anything?" John heard Rita's voice in his ear.  
"Nothing" he responded quietly, trying not to move his lips too much. They could be watching him talk to the air, a dead give away.  
A gray-blue Ford Aerostar pulled up to the curb and stopped, completely blocking Andy and Connie's view. The side door slid aside to reveal a beefy man in his early thirties sitting in the middle seat.  
"Get in" he ordered.  
"I'd rather not" John answered. A laugh from the unseen back seat chilled John's blood even more. He knew that voice. Had Renald himself come?  
"Ah, Detective, how lovely that you're not a moron. I can trust you've been smart enough to get my brother, then" John took a deep breath as a hand curled around the open sliding door and Renald pushed himself out of the vehicle.  
"Do you like my transportation, Detective?" he gestured behind himself, "Terribly inconspicuous, isn't it?" Renald was tall, thin, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. There was no trace of ethnicity about him.  
"Where's Rosalind?" John asked coldly. Renald smiled and inclined his head. He turned around and two beefy hands placed a small body in his hands. John nearly let a tear slip when he saw that Rosalind wasn't hurt. In fact she was dressed in an outfit he didn't recognize but that was clean and in good repair, her hair was tucked neatly away in a braid falling down her back and although she looked a little nervous she didn't look terrified out of her mind.  
"Daddy!" she cried when she saw him and struggled to get out of Renald's arms.  
"Ah, not yet little one" Renald tightened his grip on her frail frame and she stopped wiggling.  
"Daddy?" her voice quivered.  
"It's okay Ros," John gave her a little smile, "Just hold on for a few more minutes, okay?" She nodded, giving Renald a nervous look.  
"You're Queen, Detective, for my Knight, I believe was the deal"  
"In here" John nodded toward the restaurant. Renald gave him a cold look.  
"I do hope you aren't trying to be tricky, Detective" he said snidely and nodded his head. The beefy mad stepped out of the van, drawing a small gun and pointing it right at the back of Ros's head. She couldn't see it, but he could.  
"Bring the van!" Renald ordered the driver. There was an alley behind the restaurant, right where John was taking his daughter's captor. By now, his friends on either side would be heading back there and as soon as he and his "party" entered Luigi's, Andy and Connie would follow, cutting off any escape route Renald would have. John turned and led the two men holding his daughter through the smelly restaurant and kitchen, out the back door and into the rain again. The Aerostar was sitting right at the entrance to the alley. Renald took one look around and, seeing that his brother was not there, turned purple. Before he could say a word, the teams that had just been waiting burst out of back doors, guns drawn and pointing at Renald. And before they could say anything, the van came roaring down the alley, making Metaboy and the Lieutenant dive away like bowling pins.  
"Get in!" the beefy man ordered, pushing the gun up against Rosalind's head. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers as her father complied, crawling in after Renald. The door slammed shut as they were plummeting down the alley.  
"That was stupid, Detective!" Renald growled, "Very stupid." He was still clutching Rosalind who was attempting to curl up into herself. John was breathing hard, not sure what had just happened and how he was going to get out of this one. They took a hard turn and then another and they were in a new alley, still driving like they were on a desert strip.  
"Ah...boss?" the driver called for attention as the van began to slow.  
"What are you doing?" Renald growled as the van came to a complete stop. They all looked out windshield. There was a line of 3 SUVs blocking their path and one small figure with billowing red hair standing in front of them.  
"What the hell is going on?" Renald yelled and pushed Rosalind into John's lap as he scrambled out the door.  
"Daddy?" Rosalind asked quietly as he maneuvered her around so he could get out too.  
"It's okay, honey" John assured her, "Mommy's here" Another 3 SUVs pulled up behind the van, making John realize just how organized his wife's family was.  
"Who the hell are you?" Renald screeched at Grace, who was getting wetter by the minute.  
"I believe you have something of mine" she answered and there was ice in her voice. At that exact moment six doors opened and 6 tall, broad, Irish brothers stepped into the rain. Renald and his men turned at the sound of more doors closing behind them and saw the other three of John's brother in laws standing there. Sirens could be heard getting closer to them and Renald seemed to blanche as he realized there was nowhere to go. He was trapped in a doorless alley way, facing 7 mad Irishmen to his front and three to his back, backed up only by his two men.  
"Who are you?" he asked more slowly this time, obviously wanting to know who had just outsmarted him. Grace crossed the space between them, Peter and Paul at her back, and stopped right in front of him. Her countenance completely changed and she gave him a cheerful smile.  
"I'm Grace" she answered and then brushed past him.  
"Grace..." John didn't even know what to say as she rubbed Rosalind's back and kissed her cheek.  
"I know" she said, "It's okay. You can thank me later" She gave him a mischievous smile as the cop cars pulled up behind the SUVs and Renald was arrested. 


	33. Expanding

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
AN: Sorry this is taking so long, folks! There's an ending in sight, though, only one more little story to do before it's all over!  
  
Both John and Gracie were overprotective of their daughter for a while after that. Rosalind didn't mind, she had gotten quite a scare and was grateful to have her parents near her at almost all times of the day. John would have kept her home from school for a while, but Grace insisted they follow some sort of normal routine. She was, after all, the child psychologist so he listened to her. But he didn't have to like it.  
Still, after a few months he was able to go a whole day without worrying about her every few seconds and life returned to "normal", if the Clark's lives could ever be called normal. Thus it was that John and Gracie's anniversary was spent in an expensive restaurant, instead of at home on the couch, eating popcorn and watching the latest Veggie Tales.  
Grace was wearing a short, silky green dress with satin cord straps. The freckles on her shoulders, each of which John knew intimately, were covered by her long red hair which she had allowed to fall down her back. A secretive smile played on her lips and there was a new glimmer in her eyes, a glow to her face that John recognized as something new, though completely enchanting.  
The waiter brought their desert so John stayed silent about that little smile. He could feel her foot brushing up and down his leg and he thought he suddenly had a good idea what she might be thinking about.  
"What's that little smile for?" she asked with her soft voice. John raised a surprised eyebrow.  
"I was just about to ask you that" he replied with a bigger smile. Had they already begun reading each other's thoughts?  
"I was thinking about your anniversary present" she answered, picking at the slice of pie in front of her.  
"Funny. I was thinking about one of yours" he answered, "The one for private use" She grinned at him, catching his meaning, and shook her head.  
"You might want to rethink your gift choice" she said, "But let's have the one for public use first" John had had a hard time thinking of what to get her. Jewelry was off the list, she didn't wear anything except her wedding ring. Besides the corny chocolates and roses, what did a man get for a woman? He had been contemplating calling his mother in law when one day he happened to walk by a Hallmark store. There was the most fascinating picture frame in the window. It was a crystal unicorn-Pegasus with a silver moon on its wings, the middle of which was vacant to display the picture. Grace had a thing for the fantastical. He handed her the carefully, professionally wrapped box. She carefully pulled the ribbon off, tucking it in her purse for later use, and peeled the paper away.  
"Oh, John!" she gasped when she had pulled the crystal/silver statuette out. It had their wedding portrait in it.  
"Like it?" he asked, already knowing that she did.  
"Oh, John! It's perfect! So beautiful!" Sitting across from each other at a table would have made it difficult for some people to kiss, but Grace disregarded the fact that they were in a nice place and vacated her chair in favor of his lap.  
"How do you always know the perfect thing to get me?" she whispered in his ear and gave him a kiss. John forgot the fact that there may be people watching them. What did he care? But the waiter came and collected their check so they collected their coats and were waiting for their car out in the chilly night.  
"Hey, what about my present?" he asked, pulling her into his arms, just to hold her. She looked down, almost bashful.  
"Well, the truth is, it's not quite ready yet" she admitted. John was intrigued. What in the world could she have gotten him?  
"And I suppose it's not really fair of me to give to you, since half of it is already yours" Now he was really curious. She looked back up into his face and he saw that new glow again. She took one of his hands away from her back and twined her fingers in his. Then she lifted herself on her toes to whisper in his ear:  
"Happy Anniversary" and then she put his hand on her stomach, "Daddy" 


	34. McCormick Women

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
"What're you grinnin' for?" Andy asked as John took his coat off, unable to remove the huge smile from his face. As soon as he had realized what she was telling him, John had felt his heart soar up to the stars that Grace was always staring at and he twirled her around in his arms. Then he had set her quickly back on the ground, worried that he probably shouldn't have done that. She had laughed at him and made him kiss her. He knew he had rambled the whole way home, wondering out loud if it would be a boy or girl, dreaming about the house he was going to buy her, imagining the laughter at Christmases to come.  
They had woken Ros just a bit early to tell her. He had been just a bit afraid that she would be upset, especially since only just half a year ago she had been kidnapped. Would she feel she was being deprived of her parents? But, as usual, the young Rosalind surprised her father and exclaimed at how happy she was going to be to have a younger brother and sister. (She apparently hadn't quite grasped that it was only going to be one or the other)  
"Well?" Andy prodded when John didn't answer right away.  
"Grace is pregnant" he said it as casually as he could but somehow the entire squad heard him and he was soon getting healthy slaps on the back from the guys and hugs from Rita and Connie.  
"Congratulations, John!" Connie seemed almost as excited as he was himself. She had become good friends with Grace.  
"When's she due?" Rita asked. Why was it the women always thought to ask these questions, and never the men?  
"Uh, May" he answered happily, barely able to contain himself.  
They received even more generous reactions from Grace's family.  
"Beware, John Clark" Mark said with all seriousness, "You've just taken on O'Malley kids" He rolled his eyes as one of his own four broke something in another room and went to investigate.  
"He's right you know" Matthew, his twin, added, "I've only got three and they're a handful. And don't you go thinkin' Grace is gonna stop with just two. You'll end up like me parents if you're not careful" John didn't think Grace would want to take it quite that far, but he knew that she wanted more children.  
"Ach, congratulations, boy" was the greeting from both Mr. O'Malley and Peter. Each of the brothers took their turn saying something equally congratulatory and dire, in their own ways, before he ever got around to his mother in law.  
"Now, don't you be worrin' about a thing" she told him quietly, "You just give me a call when it starts to get to you" John gave her a confused smile and didn't bother asking what she was talking about. Grace's mother was often cryptic, usually on purpose, but she usually ended up being right about....whatever she was talking about in the first place.  
He was glad, however, a few months later, that she was the way she was because it shortly became apparent that a pregnant Grace was completely out of his league.  
"Ah, don' worry about it too much" Mr. O'Malley told him one night when John had decided to take his wife for a lovely little visit to her parent's house. She and her mother were now safely tucked away in the kitchen, drinking tea and no doubt discussing things he didn't want to hear. Rosalind was playing with Sherry, William and Erin, Matthew's kids, who were visiting her grandparents for the evening.  
"All the McCormick women are like that" Paul, who could often be found at his parent's home, told him.  
"McCormick's?" John repeated.  
"Molly's clan" Mr. O'Malley explained, "And it'll only get worse. Gracie's got just as much fire in 'er as 'er mother, and I was a-hidin in the garage and at work for well on nine years while we pushed out this brood" He jerked his head toward his son. John could only imagine going through a whole decade of Grace as the pregnant tyrant. She was always, of course, kind and gentle with Ros, but when it came to John she slapped, pinched, yelled, cried or did pretty much anything that came to her mind, depending on what mood she was in. He had already learned to wake her with a soft kiss and a nuzzle, to then proceed to make sure she had a cup of tea and that Rosalind brushed her teeth in the morning. In the evenings he said and did whatever he could to keep her happy, including making three trips in a row to the corner store to buy whatever he whimsy happened to be. He had also quickly learned to change his own moods as quickly as hers, for she might be screaming at him one minute and kissing him passionately the next. It all left him rather frazzled and exhausted.  
He was, therefore, enormously happy one evening when he came home from work and found her grinning, flipping some sliced potatoes in a skillet.  
"Oh, John!" she cried as soon as she saw him and abandoned her cooking food. Her belly would not permit her to get as close as she would have liked, but she compensated by wrapping her arms around his neck.  
"I had the most marvelous news from the doctor today!" she told him. He prepared himself to be excited over nothing.  
"We're having twins!" 


	35. The Price of Pecan Pie

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
Grace's moods improved quickly after she found out she was having twins. She was so estatic about it that she couldn't hold a bad mood for very long. Her cravings, however, did increase annoyingly. By the time she was eight and a half months along, she was waking John almost every night to go and get her something she desperately wanted. Pickles, sour cream, baby carrots, chocolate icing, even soda crackers. To John it seemed she knew every obscure food that could exist and was thinking them up one at a time just to annoy the death out of him.  
"John?" He was still mostly asleep, but he rolled over and grunted so that she knew he could hear her.  
"Do we have any pecan pie?" She was wide awake. He couldn't even lift his eyelids.  
"Mmm. I don't think so honey" he murmmered in his sleep.  
"I wonder if Margo's will have any?" Margo's was the 24 hour quicky mart at the corner. They carried pickles, sour cream, chocolate icing and soda crackers.  
"I don't think so honey" he repeated, still mostly asleep and mostly unaware of what was going on.  
"Will you go see, honey? I don't know why but I suddenly have this absolute craving for pecan pie" John managed to lift an eyelid just enough to see that it was four o'clock in the morning.  
"I've got to get up in two hours, Gracie" he groaned.  
"Oh, baby! I'm sorry! Go back to sleep" she kissed him lightly and pulled the blankets closer to his face. He drifted off a bit more, until he felt her rustling around in the bed and felt a chill as she lifted the covers and got out.  
"Where're you going?" he asked, although he was barely concious of the fact.  
"I'm going to Margo's to get some pie" she answered quietly but she might as well have said "I'm going to visit Lucy in the Sky" because he wasn't registering anything.  
The next morning he woke up to a cold bed. He didn't remember anything of the late night conversation with his wife, or anything about pecan pie. He rubbed his eyes and wondered where she could be. He glanced at the clock.  
"Oh my god!" he shouted. It was 7:05 already. How could he have possibly over slept? He pushed the covers back and tumbled out of bed, yanking frantically at the suit Grace had set out the night before.  
"Grace!" he called. Nothing.  
"Shit" he whispered to himself and strode across the room, pulling his shirt on as he went, to check Rosalind's room. The little girl was still sound asleep in bed.  
"Ros, oh Ros, honey, get up! Come on, sweetie, we're late! Very very late!" Ros yawned and rubbed her eyes as she woke up.  
"Daddy?" she questioned.  
"Come on honey, get dressed, we're late" he ordered her and then went to the kitchen. Grace was not there. In fact, there was no sign of Grace anywhere.  
"Grace!" John yelled, "Where are you?" He didn't get a response.  
"Shit, shit, shit!" he muttered to himself, pulling out a box of pop tarts and sticking them in the toaster. No nutritous breakfast for them this morning.  
"Ros are you getting dressed?" he called as he headed back to his own room to find his tie and socks.  
"I can't find my homework!" she called back to him. How was it that everything seemed to go wrong on the mornings they were late?  
"Did you check your backpack?" he asked.  
"I found it!" she answered a minute later. John finished tieing his shoe and grabbed his coat. Rosalind met him in the hallway. She had her brush in her hand.  
"Where's Mommy?" she asked.  
"I don't know, she must've gone to the store or something" he answered hurriedly. A memory was triggered in his mind, but he was too busy to pay it any attention. He took the brush from his daughter and sat down to comb her hair, the longest task of the morning. He got half done and gave up. He twisted her hair up in a bun and wrapped the rubber band around it half a dozen times.  
"Have Aunt Maria comb it more after school, okay, honey?" he told her, shoving a pop tart at her and slamming the front door behind himself.  
"Hey" Andy greeted him as he rushed into the office. He was only a couple of minutes late, traffic had been good.  
"Hey" he answered, trying to think of a way to yell at Grace without getting his own head blown off.  
"Just got a call. Guy was found this morning when the next worker showed up. Down at Margo's, you know, the place down by your place?" Andy asked, grabbing a walkie-talkie from the wall.  
"Yeah" John replied, following him and frowning. Hadn't Gracie been wanting something from there last night? He could just barely recall her waking him up in the middle of the night to go get something.  
The man, Bobby as John had come to learn over the past few months, was sprawled out behind the counter. The scene was nothing John hadn't seen before, but somehow this was different. Probably because he'd known the man. They began the canvas and questioning witnesses when one of the uniforms that had been on site first called them over to a broom closet that was located right next to the counter.  
"Thought I heard something in there" he reported, "Sounded like a person" Andy and John exchanged a look and John pulled his gun out as Andy reached for the knob. They both silently counted to three and then Andy jerked the door open...  
...and John's heart stopped beating. A mass of bright orange hair covered the pale of face of a pregnant woman slumped ontop of some mops.  
"Gracie?" He was shaking as he hosltered his gun and knelt beside her. He pushed the hair out of her face and nearly bit his own tongue off when he saw a streak of blood dried on the right side of her face.  
"Gracie! Gracie!" he repeated over and over again, checking her pulse, slapping her gently, trying to get her to wake up. His shaking fingers couldn't find the steady beat that would tell him her heart was still pumping. Behind him he could hear Andy calling for an ambulance and for maybe the third time in his life, John found himself praying earnestly.  
  
"Gracie, don't be dead, don't be dead! Come on baby, just wake up, wake up, Gracie, wake up!" He suddenly felt an overpowering sense of guilt. He'd been mad at her this morning when he'd realized how late he was and that she wasn't there. He couldn't remember now what the last thing he'd said to her had been, but he knew it wasn't "I love you". What if she died thinking he was mad at him. Oh God, what if she died?  
"No, Gracie, Gracie, wake up! Wake up, Gracie, wake up!" he ordered again, feeling stinging tears in his eyes. He could hear sirens coming, and he could only pray that they weren't too late.  
"Gracie, Gracie, Gracie" he chanted over and over again, until the paramedics pushed him out of the way so they could get to her.  
"Gracie, I'm right behind you, I'm right here!" he told her as he followed the gurney to the waiting ambulence outside. There wasn't room for him so he followed with Andy behind. He couldn't speak. What was he going to tell Eric and Molly? What was he going to tell the brothers, who had warned him against hurting her, or letting her get hurt. But then, that would be nothing compared to what he was going to do to himself.  
Somehow, Peter, Mark, Luke and Andrew were already at the hospital when the ambulence arrived.  
"What happened?" Peter demanded all five of them followed the rushing gurney through the halls of the emergency room.  
"I don't know, I don't know!" John replied, telling himself as well as his brother in law. Gracie was taken into a room and John was led away to fill out some forms. He could barely concentrate and eventually Peter took over for him. Paul, Patrick and Michael all appeared shortly after and joined the vigil. John couldn't sit, he took to pacing. Andy had gone to continue working the case. Eric and Molly showed up, Matthew and John on their heels. Even Maria showed up. An hour had passed before a doctor emerged to confront the crowd.  
"How is she?" John demanded desperately. The Doctor gave him a look, and sighed. 


	36. Someone to Blame

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
John's heart dropped into his stomach. He started shaking and he felt like he might faint. He couldn't go on without Grace, he just couldn't. He'd never make it. She was everything that kept him together.  
"It was a close call, Mr. Clark" the Doctor started, "but she should be fine"  
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph" Molly said from behind him and he took in a ragged breath, trying to get the message to his stomach that she was all right.  
"What about the babies?" Peter asked. John had nearly forgotten. How could he have? The children! His children! Good Lord, could he have killed his own children through neglect before they were even born?  
"The children are fine, as far as we can tell" the Doctor added, "We want to keep her over night and maybe for another day or two"  
"Is there something wrong?" One of the other brothers asked, but John wasn't listening much. He had to see her.  
"Can I see her?" The Doctor looked at him oddly. He had been mid sentence when John had interrupted him.  
"She's not conscious yet" he warned, but I think we can let a couple of people in" He eyed the large brood standing around, "Family only"  
"We are her family, lad, and ye'll let us all in if ye know what's good for ye" Eric snapped. The twelve of them crowded around the bed in the little room Gracie had been sent to. There were tubes and needles in her arms and a thick bandage had been wrapped around her head. Some thoughtful nurse had lifted her hair out of the way and splayed it across the pillow. A dark bruise was coloring her left eye and John thought he saw smaller ones around her throat. Perhaps finger marks?  
"Ach, Gracie" Molly said and pushed her way through the crowd to her daughter's side, "Foolish child" But she ran a loving hand over her brow.  
"Andrew, Michael, she needs her hair put in plaits" the feisty woman ordered and two of Grace's younger older brothers moved to her head and each took half of her hair. John ignored the fact that they were braiding his wife's hair and pulled a chair up beside her.  
"Gracie" he whispered to her, taking her hand in his own, hands that were usually so capable that were now cold and lifeless, "Oh, Gracie, I'm so sorry" The room was silent as the large family silently sent their support to the guilt ridden young man. John was taking deep breaths and berating himself. How could he have been so callus? Why hadn't he known that if he didn't go up and go get some damn pecan pie that his willful young wife would go herself? It was measly fifteen minutes to complete the little errand. How could he be so selfish? Why had she ever married him in the first place, he didn't deserve her!  
"Come on boys" Molly said quietly, noting the poor disposition of her son-in-law, "There's things to be done" She one by one pushed each of her sons out of the room, reluctant though they were to leave, and finally grabbed hold of her husband's arm to pull him out as well.  
"Now don't you be frettin' Johnny boy" she said before she left, "All will turn out well" The prophesy did little to easy John's guilt laden heart but he took hope in the light she'd given him. He'd yet to see Molly O'Malley be wrong about anything.  
When they were gone, the nurse came in to check on some of Grace's signs and then left again. John felt useless, sitting there, doing nothing.  
  
"John?" He whipped his head up from her hand. Her eyes were still closed, but her head was moving and he could tell that her breathing pattern had changed.  
"John?" Her voice was so quiet and weak, it only tore at his soul more to hear it.  
"I'm here, Gracie, I'm here" he assured her quietly. He reached out and ran his fingers over her un-swollen cheek, and her head turned towards his touch. He watched as she painfully lifted her lids, barely enough to see that sparkling green through her long eyelashes.  
"I'm here baby" he whispered to her, placing a kiss on her cold lips.  
  
"John..." she whispered again.  
"I'm here" he repeated. She took a deep breath.  
"Not...not your..not your fault" she told him. A tear came to his eye, though it didn't fall. She passed out again and he pushed away from the bed. It was his fault. At least to a point. But she was right about one thing, he wasn't the one that had done this. It had been someone else. Someone else who'd nearly killed his wife and two unborn children.  
And he was going to find that person. And make them pay. 


	37. A Brake

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
"There weren't any witnesses, except Gracie" Andy repeated, "We don't have any leads to follow." John felt like smashing something. How could there not be anything for them to do?  
"There weren't any prints?" he asked. He'd just finished the interview with Bobby's wife and brother. As far as they were aware he nobody had had a beef with him, and they couldn't think of anyone else that might have any more helpful information. For them, it had simply been the tragic outcome of a routine robbery.  
"Metaboy and Jones are still down there, but I doubt they're going to find anything" Andy answered. John took a deep breath and tried not to let himself go. He could feel his muscles tensing up with frustration and anger. It was looking more and more hopeless, but he couldn't let it go. He couldn't let the man that had threatened everything get away.  
"John, look, I know you want to do something about this."  
"Damn right!" John shouted back. Andy pushed him into the locker room.  
"There's nothing you can do right now, so just relax. Worry about getting Gracie better, taking care of Rosalind" Andy said calmly, but forcefully.  
"I can't" John responded, "God, Andy. What if.I love her so much" He plunked down on the bench and hung his head. His throat was tightening up and he was fighting with the impulse to just cry.  
"I know" Andy said softly, "I know how you feel. We'll work on it, John. The important thing is that Gracie is going to be all right" He was on the verge of patting his partner on the back when the door slammed open and Greg poked his head in.  
"Hey, we ah, have someone you might want to talk to" he said. John looked up. Metaboy didn't elaborate so they followed him to the back room. There was a man sitting in the chair, a little disheveled and looking like he could use a good meal.  
"This is Brake" Jones introduced them, "Said he had some information on our case, but he wanted to talk to you"  
"You're Clark?" Brake asked. He had darker hair, pale skin, and wore an old army jacket.  
"Yeah" Clark answered, "This is my partner, Detective Sipowitz" Brake swallowed hard.  
"Your wife got hurt this morning" he said, but it wasn't a question.  
"How'd you know about that?" Andy asked, pulling a chair out and taking a seat.  
"I know this guy.Markus Flinch" Brake said nervously. John frowned. That name sounded familiar, but he wasn't sure why.  
"Who's Markus Flinch?" Andy asked.  
"Your wife, Grace Clark, right? The red head?" John nodded, "She was working on his case" Brake looked very nervous about the entire conversation.  
"I remember seeing her in the hall ways sometimes, she was always real nice, you know?"  
"What do you mean she was working on his case?" Andy asked.  
"She's one of them kid head shrinkers. Markus's kid, he's a little touched ya know? Now the kids mom, she died in this fire or something, so Markus, he's tryin to get the kid"  
"You know the kid's name?" John inquired. Brake shook his head.  
"Na. Didn't talk to Markus so much, guy kinda freaked me out, ya know? Guess your lady didn't like him much neither cause she voted he couldn't have the kid" he answered.  
"How do you know all this?" Andy asked.  
"Markus and his friends, they tend to have loud conversations. The walls ain't so thick, ya know?" Brake shrugged, "Anyway, Markus, he didn't like it so much that your lady wouldn't give him his kid"  
"You hear something about his planning on hurting her?" Andy asked.  
"Nah. Not really. But I know he was really pissed, ya know? Then I hear this pregnant red head got banged up out by Pokey's, where Markus works, and I think to myself, that crazy Markus, he just might've been after that nice girl"  
"Why you telling us?" John asked, suddenly suspicious. They rarely encountered people who came forward with information. Honest information anyway.  
"Markus, well he's more than a little messed up" Brake nodded as if to emphasize his comment, "And Grace Clark, she's a real nice lady. Hate to see something happen to her. Hey, how's she doin anyway? Didn't hear how bad she got it"  
"She's doing okay" John answered, "Still unconscious"  
"Thanks for your help" Andy said, getting up and prompting Brake to do the same.  
"You need me for something else, here's my number" Brake handed over an oily scrap of paper with seven numbers scribbled across it.  
"Thanks" he said and watched Brake leave. He turned back to John.  
"What do you think?" he asked, "Pretty odd, him just giving that information up for nothing"  
"Grace has that effect on people" John said absently.  
"You know anything about this case he's talking about?" Andy asked.  
"Grace doesn't talk about work too much" John answered, "But I thought I recognized the name. I'll call Gracie's office, see if they have anything on it"  
"All right. I'll go fill the boss in" Andy said, and they both headed off. 


	38. Markus Flinch

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
"Yeah. Thanks Evie" John said and put the receiver down. Andy looked up at him.  
"Apparently Grace got called in on a court case. Custody battle between maternal grandparents and the father. The kid's name is Alex Flinch. He's autistic. Grace was supposed to determine if Flinch's living environment was suitable to raising a child with special needs. Secretary couldn't give me anymore, files are classified" He told his partner.  
"Hey" Connie walked up, holding a notebook, "Ran Markus Flinch. He's got a rap a mile long"  
"For what?" Andy asked.  
"You name it." Connie answered, "Assault and battery, robbery, attempted rape, attempted kidnapping, possession. The list goes on."  
"Damn" John muttered.  
"You get an address?" Andy asked.  
"Work address" Connie answered, ripping a page out of her notebook and handing it over, "Got a job a month ago. Pokey's. It's a college bar. Works as a bouncer"  
"John and I'll take a ride down" Andy said, grabbing his coat. John followed.  
Pokey's was little more than a hole in the wall. The sign on the door said closed. Andy banged on it with his radio. He and John exchanged a look when there was no response, neither one really surprised. These places operated at night, and rarely had any one around during the day. They were just about to turn away when they heard the locks being undone. A middle aged woman stuck her head out. Despite the stereotype, she looked to be an upper middle class citizen, white with short brown hair and a Ralph Lauren skirt suit on.  
"Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked, not opening the door all the way.  
"Detectives Clark and Sipowitz, ma'am" Clark said, both flashing their badges, "Can we have a moment?" The woman nodded and moved away from the door. The interior of the bar was dark, but looked like a respectable business. It was clean at least.  
"You the owner?" Andy asked. The woman nodded.  
"Yes. Melissa Martrich" she answered, "Can I ask what this is about?"  
  
"Do you employ a man named Markus Flinch?" John asked. Melissa snorted.  
"Not anymore I don't" she answered, going back around behind the bar, "Can I offer you something to drink, Detectives?"  
"We're fine. What happened with Flinch?" Andy replied. Melissa crossed her arms.  
"I hired him about a month ago. Another one of my employees, Brian Quincy, recommended him. Told me he was trying to get custody of his child and needed a job. Usually I thoroughly research prospective employees, but Brian is someone I trust completely and so I made and exception."  
"What happened?" John asked.  
"He was fine for a while. Showed up on time, did good work. Last night he showed up drunk. Nobody realized it at first, he hides it well. We had a couple boys overdo it and I sent him to escort them out. They struggled. It's nothing unusual, drunks don't usually like to get cut off. Markus got rough with them. Too rough. He broke one of their noses and I'm told the other suffered a fraction in his left arm."  
"What time was this?" Andy asked. Melissa took a moment to think about it.  
"About 3:30 maybe" she answered, "I filed a police report and the two boys were taken to Mercy Hospital"  
"You fired him right away?" Andy questioned.  
"Yes. I had Brian and another bouncer, Neil Gorgorio, took him outside to wait for the cops. Neil has a black eye and Brian got a dislocated shoulder out of it" Melissa told them with a sigh.  
"So he got away" John said. She nodded with a sour expression.  
"I suppose he got himself into some kind of trouble if you're after him" she said. Neither detective chose to answer.  
"Well, leave me a card or something and if I see him again you can be sure I'll call you" John gave her a card and they left.  
"Well, that leaves us with shit" Andy commented on the drive back to the precinct. John shrugged.  
"Suspect" he said.  
"Yeah a suspect that nobody can find" Andy humphed. They were surprised to see Peter and Mark in the office when they got back.  
"John, there ye are" Peter said, shaking his hand.  
"Hey guys, what's up?"  
"Ma sent lunch" Mark answered, nodding towards the coffee room, "She says 'There may be no rest for the weary, but there'll be food, or I'm no Irish mother'" He kind of chuckled to himself and John found himself with a wry smile despite himself.  
"How goes the hunt?" Peter asked.  
"We've got a suspect" John answered.  
"Good." Peter answered, "We'll let you get back to work then. Make sure ye eat. Andrew's with Gracie, and Patrick's due to take over in a bit" John nodded, glad to know that she wasn't alone. Peter clapped him on the back and then both Irish men were gone. The Lieutenant appeared from the coffee room, a plate of mashed potatoes and corned beef in his hand.  
"What did you get?" he asked.  
"Not much" Andy answered, "Guy went ballistic last night, beat a couple kids up then took off. Nobody's seen him since" The Lieutenant nodded gravely.  
"Clark, if you want to go to the hospital."  
"It's all right Boss" John answered, "I'd rather stay here, work the case"  
"Get some food. Your mother in law sent it over" the Boss told them and then disappeared into his office. Andy and John exchanged a look and headed to the coffee room. 


	39. Don't Leave Me

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
There wasn't much more to do. Metaboy and Jones had taken a ride down to Brake's building to see if Flinch was there, but unfortunately he wasn't that stupid. Brake didn't know who his friends had been, he'd never actually seen them and he'd never heard any names. Connie and Rita were out on another case, but there was nothing for Andy and John to do to help them so they sat at their desks, trying to look busy with reports. Irving's phone rang.  
"Detective Clark?" John looked up and Irving nodded at him. He picked up the receiver.  
"Hey, John, it's Patrick. She's conscious" John slammed the phone down without answering and grabbed a radio as he headed out.  
"Hey!" Andy yelled at him.  
"Gracie's awake!" he yelled back without pausing and left. Every second that traffic held him up drove him an inch closer to going insane, but he finally made it to the hospital half an hour later. Her eyes were shut when he walked in and Patrick was hovering over her. He either hadn't called the rest of the family yet or they were taking their merry time getting there. John couldn't be sure which it was, but he was glad that he would have a few private minutes with his wife before the horde joined them. Patrick looked up as he walked in and nodded without saying anything. He leaned over a little bit.  
"Gracie, luv, John's here" he whispered. Her brow creased and her eyes fluttered open. Patrick squeezed her hand before letting go and shutting the door behind himself. John took a second to look at her. The bruises around her throat had darkened, as had her black eye. Red streaks surrounded her crystal green eyes and even her freckles seemed to have paled.  
"Oh Gracie" John sighed as he took a seat beside her. She blinked and gave him one of her looks.  
"I'm so sorry" he gushed, taking her hand and pushing it against his own face, "I'm so sorry" He could hear her take a deep breath and he looked up at her face.  
"It's not your fault" she rasped. She could barely speak. Her throat muscles were probably more bruised than her skin was.  
"If I had just gotten up to go get you some pie." he let his sentence die away, knowing he wouldn't convince her that he was at fault. He didn't feel like arguing with her, and it didn't look like she had the energy anyway. She could barely keep her eyes open. She kept blinking slowly and taking deep breaths.  
"The twins?" she rasped.  
"The doctor says they're fine" he told her, "Ros is still at school. Maria will pick her up and I'll bring her by tonight" Grace seemed to take this all in calmly and didn't bother responding. He brushed a light hand across her forehead and pushed back a few strands of hair.  
"Who braided my hair?" she asked. John smiled.  
"Andrew and Michael" he answered. Her eyes flashed open, searching for her brothers.  
"They're not here now" he told her, "It's almost two" She shut her eyes again, and he could feel her squeeze his hand just a little bit. He kissed her fingers, continuing to stare at the bruises on her delicate throat.  
"Who did this to you Gracie?" he whispered, not really expecting her to answer. But she opened her eyes and looked at him.  
"Markus Flinch" she said softly. John's head snapped up.  
"What?" he demanded. Grace cringed at his raised voice, probably increasing her headache.  
"He was."  
"I know who he is" John interrupted, not wanting her to speak more than she had to, "We were looking at him for a suspect. He skipped town" Grace didn't respond. John couldn't tell if she'd fallen asleep or not, but he had to get this information to the squad. He tried to pull his hand out of hers, but her fingers tightened up and her eyes flashed open.  
"Don't leave me" she begged softly, the glare of fear in her eyes. A new determination ignited in John's heart. He'd never seen his resilient wife afraid of anything. He was going to hurt the one who had put that fear in her eyes.  
"Patrick!" he called as loudly as he dared, and even the slight elevation in his voice caused Grace to cringe. But her brother heard and poked his head in the door.  
"Call my squad. Tell them Grace ID'd the suspect" John told his brother in law. Patrick nodded, smiled at Grace and then disappeared again. John got up and sat on the side of the bed. He bent over and kissed Grace's brow lightly, then rubbed her cheek with his free hand.  
"Don't worry about anything" he told her, "I'm gonna take care of you" Grace smiled slightly as she closed her eyes and let herself fall asleep under his watchful eye. 


	40. Rosalind's Visit

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
"Hi, Mommy" Rosalind said quietly as she entered the dimly illuminated room. The light hurt Grace's eyes. John had cautioned his daughter that her mother was in a lot of pain and so might not want to talk for very long.  
Grace opened her eyes and though it still hurt her to smile, John could see the sheer delight in her eyes. It was a big improvement over the fear that had rested there hours earlier. He had sat with her until night had fallen and then he'd gone out to find some food and pick up his daughter from Maria's.  
"Hi, sweetie!" Grace said, softly, but not with as much pain as she had earlier. John was happy to notice the improvement. He pulled a chair over to the bed for Ros to kneel on so she could hold her mother's hand.  
"Oh, I missed you" Grace said.  
"I'm sorry" Rosalind answered. Grace smiled.  
"It's okay." Grace answered, "It's not your fault"  
"Daddy said it was a bad man who hurt you" Rosalind told her.  
"That's right. A bad man hurt me because he was angry at me." Grace told her. Her policy was that the truth was the best story.  
"Why was he mad at you?" Ros asked. Grace swallowed.  
"That doesn't matter right now" John answered for her, "But don't you worry. Daddy and Uncle Andy are going to catch him and put him in jail where he can't hurt anyone else ever again" Ros nodded, complete trust in her face.  
"Are you going to be okay, Mommy?" she asked. Grace smiled.  
"Yep. I'll get better, don't worry. Daddy and Grandma are going to take care of me" Grace didn't particularly like doctors.  
"You'll be okay too. You go to school tomorrow and do your work. Daddy will bring you back to see me okay?"  
"Can't I stay and help take care of you?" Rosalind asked. John smiled.  
"You can't stay, but you can help" Grace answered with a smile of her own, "You can draw me pretty pictures to put on the walls. Maybe you can bring me my favorite blanky?" Ros nodded gravely, impressed with her important job. They all looked as Paul entered the room quietly. He smiled gently at the little girl.  
"Okay, it's time to go now, Ros" John said, taking her by the hand, "Mommy needs to sleep to get better, and you need some dinner" Rosalind stopped walking toward the door.  
"Why are you leaving?" she asked suddenly, sounding shocked.  
"I'm going to take you home" John answered, slightly confused.  
"Then who's going to stay with Mommy?" she demanded.  
"I will, don't worry, Acushla" Paul told her, using the pet name her uncles had given her.  
"But Daddy has to take care of her" Rosalind said, slipping her hand out of John's hand and putting it in Paul's, "I'll go with Uncle Paul. You stay here and take care of Mommy"  
"Honey." John started.  
"John" Grace interrupted. He looked over. He could tell she'd rather he stay with her.  
"It's all right" Paul said softly, "I'll take her" John sighed and took his keys out. He handed them to Paul.  
"She'll need pajamas" he said then bent down and hugged Rosalind.  
"You be good okay? I'll see you tomorrow after school?" Rosalind nodded, again with the serious look on her face, and followed her uncle out the door. He walked slowly back to Grace. She gave him a little smile. He pulled his shoes off and stretched out in the narrow bed next to her, and she rested her head on his chest. He kissed the top of her red hair, which was still in plaits, and together they fell asleep. 


	41. With Morning's Light

Rosalind This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
"Sir? Sir?"  
John came to with a start. Morning light was streaming through the window, making him squint. An older woman in a nurse's uniform was standing over him, shaking him gently. She smiled understandingly and backed away so he could swing his long legs off the bed.  
"What time is it?" he asked quietly, noting that Grace was still asleep.  
"Almost nine" the nurse answered. John looked up at her, shocked that he was late for work, and then started pulling his shoes back on.  
"Don't worry" the nurse said immediately, "Your friend, Mr. Sipowitz, called and said that your boss has given you the day off" John finished tying his shoe and stretched.  
"How'd he know I was here?"  
"I don't know" the nurse replied, "Perhaps one of the Irish gentlemen told him"  
"How many of them were here?"  
"I'm not sure. One of the other nurses said there were several throughout the night, and there've been three this morning so far. I thought you might want to go eat before I wake her" John rubbed the small of his back. He was hungry. He told the nurse he'd be back in half an hour and went to find the hospital cafeteria. It wasn't the best food he'd ever eaten, a far cry from the grilled potatoes and hot rolls Gracie served for breakfast ("Fruitloops are nothing but a little bit of grain soaked in a whole lot of sugar") but it was enough to take the edge off of his hunger and half an hour later he was back up in Grace's room. The nurse was there already, setting a tray down on the little side table. She busied herself checking the readings from various instruments while John roused his wife.  
"It will probably still hurt for her to swallow" the nurse whispered to John as she passed him to leave. He uncovered the dishes and found them full of nearly liquid food.  
"This looks yummy" John commented wryly, scooping some of what might have been eggs at one point, into the spoon. Grace eyed it warily before opening her mouth and accepting the food. She made a face as she swallowed.  
  
"I'm calling Ma for lunch" she said and then took the next bite. She grimaced each time she swallowed and each time she did John felt like wringing Markus Flinch's neck until he couldn't swallow anymore.  
"It's all right John" Grace said quietly. He paused and looked at her, suddenly noticing that she had been studying him with that odd look in her eye. He half smiled at her and kissed her brow.  
"I know" he said.  
The day seemed to be going by slowly. Molly made an appearance for lunch, complete with edible liquid food for Grace and a hearty meal for himself. Peter and Paul both stopped by, Peter to give a blessing and Paul to report on Rosalind's night and morning. Grace kept falling in and out of sleep. John read to her and even found "Sabrina" on TV. It was about three o'clock when the bedside phone rang.  
"John, how's Grace?" Andy asked from the other end of the line.  
"She's sore, but doing okay" John answered. Grace was asleep so he was trying to be as quiet as possible.  
"Look, uh, we caught Flinch"  
"What?"  
"Yeah, some uniforms picked him up in a little town near Buffalo, place called Lewiston. Guess that's where he was from. Anyway, they'll have him here in an hour or two. I figured you'd wanna be here"  
"Yeah. Yeah, thanks Andy. I'll call Eric and Molly, I'll be there in half and hour" He hung up and then dialed Gracie's parents house. Eric answered and John told him what'd happened. Eric said that Molly was busy cooking but that he'd come out right away, so forty five minutes later John was listening to the run down on Flinch, and forty five minutes after that he was assisting Andy to push the bouncer into a chair.  
"Where were you yesterday night, Markus?" Andy asked. John was still fighting the urge to smash the man's nose in. He was huge, the perfect size for a bouncer, with a shaved head and a tight t-shirt.  
"I was at work" Flinch answered sullenly.  
"Yeah, we heard about that. Where were you after work?" Andy asked. John folded his arms and leaned against the wire cage behind him, hoping he was sending daggers from his eyes.  
"I went for a walk"  
"A walk, huh? That walk take you anywhere near a little quickie mart called Margo's?" Andy inquired menacingly.  
"Maybe, maybe not" Flinch lounged in the chair as if he were having a leisurely conversation in the comfort of his own living room.  
"Yes or no, Markus?" Andy demanded more forcefully.  
"Yeah, all right so I was there. So what? I was having a nice little conversation with a buddy of mine"  
"What's your buddy's name?"  
"I don't know"  
"You don't know your friend's name?"  
"We wasn't that kind of friend" Flinch flicked a look at John, brooding to his right. He still hadn't said a word, afraid of what might come out if he did. He wasn't going to lose his job over this guy.  
"So, you're talking to this buddy of yours, was there anyone else there?"  
"It's a quickie mart. How the hell do I know?" Flinch replied.  
"A woman maybe? Red head?" Andy pushed. Now Flinch straightened up in his chair. For some reason, he hadn't been worried that they were going to pin him for the murder of Bobby, but he seemed extremely concerned that they'd mentioned Grace. In fact, it looked like he wasn't going to be able to contain himself.  
"Dumb little bitch was asking for it. Out in the middle of the night, talking with her sweet little voice. Tellin' me, you get your act together you can maybe get joint custody. Fuck. Yeah, so maybe I slapped her up a little. Nothing the bitch didn't deserve" John couldn't hold back anymore. He pushed away from the wall and before he knew it he had fistfuls of the man's t-shirt balled up in his hands and their noses were almost touching.  
"That 'little bitch' is my wife, you ass" he whispered dangerously, "And thanks to you she can hardly swallow enough food to stay alive" Flinch chuckled, he actually, chuckled.  
"Bitch had to be a cop's wife" John punched him. He would've kept going if Andy hadn't caught his arm and pushed him back. He pulled Flinch up on his own and cuffed him before opening the door and shouting for Jones.  
"Next time, why don't you try picking on someone your own size" 


	42. In Conclusion

This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a court of law.  
  
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?  
  
One Month Later.  
  
"Well I certainly didn't think that I'd be back in the hospital again this soon" Grace answered with a tired smile. Connie laughed a little and gave John a side ways look. He was all smiles. In fact, he hadn't been able to rid himself of the grin that was plastered over his face since she'd seen him two days ago. Grace was much recovered from her ordeal. Her throat muscles, according to John, were still sore but she was able to eat regular, if soft, food again. The large black eye that she'd had was faded to a slight yellowing and the finger bruises on her throat were completely gone. Flinch had been sentenced to 10 years of prison, with an option of parole after 8 years if he kept his nose clean. Somehow, no one in the squad thought they'd be hearing from that man again in the next decade or so.  
"What did the doctors say?" Connie asked.  
"They said I pulled through it just fine" Gracie answered with a vain little smile on her lips. "It was exhausting and painful of course" she added quickly, to leave no room for doubts, and giving her husband a meaningful glance. He just continued to beam. And he had good reason. Cradled in his big arms was a very small bundle of blue blankets, shaped much like a cocoon, which were disguising the very small infant boy that Grace had delivered 2 days ago. Connie had gotten a little peak at the sleeping boy when she and Andy had first arrived. He had his father's nose and brow, and Connie had a strong feeling that he would grow up to look exactly like John. She was assured that he had big blue eyes. His name was John Eric.  
A second little bundle, this one wrapped in green (because Grace had ranted about stereotyping her daughter at 2 days old by wrapping her in pink) rested comfortably in Rosalind's arms, who was seated next to her mother on the hospital bed. There was a slight flurry of bright orange hair dusting the top of the little girl's head and the eyes that gazed up at her older sister were already starting to turn green, though all the brochures claimed that wasn't supposed to happen for another month.  
"She can't hide the Irish in her" one of Grace's many older brothers had laughed when Connie had commented a bit earlier, just before he left. She had no idea which one it had been. The baby girl had high cheekbones under her slightly pudgy face. The red hair had determined which parent she would grow to resemble. Her name was Mary Hope.  
"Oh, I almost forgot!" Connie exclaimed, "I brought a camera. Can we get a picture?"  
"Sure" Grace answered and John, still carrying the sleeping Johnny, stepped closer to her side. Connie raised the camera and focused the happy family in the middle of the frame.  
Click.  
  
Epilogue.  
  
"John!" A voice shouted through the crowd. There were young men and women swirling around him and he had to look above their heads to see the waving hand, about 10 feet away, attached to a body that was still hidden in the mass of bodies. He didn't reply but stood where he was as the waving hand grew closer, and then a smile erupted over his face as he saw who it was.  
"John Clark!" the other man exclaimed and extended his hand for John to shake heartily, which he did.  
"Lenny!" John greeted him cheerfully, "I haven't seen you since.what, college?"  
"Yeah" Lenny replied, shaking his head with a bewildered kind of smile, "Where did the years go, huh?"  
"No kidding" John replied. Lenny was a tall man, probably a couple inches taller than John himself, with black hair that now seemed to be receding away from his forehead.  
"You still bringing the bad guys in?" Lenny inquired.  
"Uh, well, actually, I'm a Lieutenant now" John answered modestly. Grace was forever condemning his pride.  
"Congrats. So whatchya doing here?" Lenny asked. John looked behind him but didn't find what he was looking for so turned back to his friend.  
"Oh, my daughter's graduating" he replied with a smile.  
"No kidding!" Lenny exclaimed, "Didn't know you had a kid that went here!"  
"Yeah" John nodded. He was extremely proud of Rosalind, but he was trying not to let it show too much. Ros had begged him and Grace not to embarrass her.  
"Me too! What's your kid's name?"  
"Uh, Rosalind Rodriguez. She's valedictorian" John answered.  
"Really, that was your kid?" Lenny exclaimed. John was secretly pleased with the impressed look on the other man's face.  
"Yep. She's the oldest" he replied, "Your kid around here?"  
"Oh, yeah. She's around here somewhere" Lenny answered, looking a little bashful now. Then something behind John caught his eye and he whistled.  
"Look what's coming our way" he said in a lowered voice. John twisted just a bit to see what was "coming their way." It was a lithe little red head dressed to kill in lavender and green, with two 10 year olds hanging one off of each hand, a red headed little girl and the other the spitting image of John himself. They reached him and Grace got on her tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.  
"There you are" she said pleasantly, "We thought we'd lost you" John smiled down at her. He was proud of her too.  
"Uh, Lenny, this is my wife, Grace. Grace, this is a buddy of mine from a few years back, Lenny" He introduced them. He noticed the slight reddening of Lenny's cheeks as he realized what he'd just done.  
"Hello" Grace smiled brilliantly at the other man.  
"Nice to meet you" Lenny responded.  
"And these two chimpanzees" John laughed at his own joke as he reached down to ruffle Mary's hair, "Are my twins, Mary and John Jr."  
"Dad! You're ruining my hair!" Mary complained, sounding just like her mother. John just laughed. Before he could say much else, two burly red headed men came up behind them, each with a child in their arms.  
"Gracie, Acushla" Paul said, putting down the 7 year old he carried, "Rosalind is looking fer ye"  
"They're ready to take the picture" Peter added, setting down the five year old he had been carrying.  
"Uh, Lenny, these my two oldest brothers, Peter and Paul" Grace made introductions, "And these are John and I's youngest two, Daniel and Gwen" Daniel, the seven year old, squatted down to examine a bug crawling across the cement, and Gwen (five year old) climbed up her father's side to rest in his arms.  
"Well, where's Rosalind?" Grace asked, turning her head about, trying to locate her daughter through the throngs of blue clad graduates.  
"She ran off with Theo" John answered, pulling his daughter's thumb out of her mouth. The two eighteen year olds some times seemed inseparable. Grace and Connie had both expressed their hopes, to their respective husbands only, that the two young people may develop a more meaningful relationship some day.  
"Ach! The girl's gone crazy!" Peter sighed, but just then both Ros and Theo broke through the crowd to join her family.  
"There you are. Do you realize we have all nine of your uncles, six aunts, grandparents, 12 cousins and four siblings ready to take this picture?" Her mother cried at her. Rosalind shrugged sheepishly. Her curvy 6 foot frame was draped under her blue robe, her long, silky black hair falling down her back. John feared every time she stepped out of the house that some man was going to fall madly in love with her and either ruin her life, or make her exceptionally happy. Either one was daunting.  
"Sorry, Ma" Everyone thought it was funny that the Puerto Rican girl had a slight Irish accent.  
"We'd better go before everyone decided to take off" Peter said. Grace threw a dazzling smile at Lenny.  
"It was nice to meet you!" she said and then led the way through the crowd, which seemed to part for her.  
"Hey man, it was nice to see you again" John said, shaking Lenny's hand once more and then taking off after his wife and children.  
Lenny stared after them. 


End file.
